Turn Around
by Maricole
Summary: A JohnRachel story, set about 6 months after last episode
1. Default Chapter

Turn Around (Profiler Fiction) John/Rachel None of the characters I use in my story belong to me (Oh how I wish they did), but to those clever people who created them. I am just borrowing them for the purpose of my story. With Thanks to Barb, who once again ploughed through the whole thing, and corrected my mistakes. (A John/Rachel story set about 6 months after the final Profiler episode.)  
  
CHAPTER 1  
  
Bailey Malone, the head of the VCTF department of the FBI, frowned at the document on his desk, rubbing his hand through his hair. "This is all we need," he muttered to himself, as he gazed down, thinking of all the upheavals that had happened over the last 12 months. At least the team was back together now, after those awful weeks when Rachel had been imprisoned and the VCTF disbanded. He and John Grant had worked tirelessly to prove her innocence, and George had used his amazing computer talent to chase up leads over the closure of the department, culminating in proof of paybacks to politicians, resulting in a back flip by those in charge, and now they were back in business, more secure than before - but this.! He looked up as his door opened, and his head pathologist, Grace Alverez entered, her wildly curly hair caught back in a band. "What's wrong Bails?" she asked irreverently "You look sicker than Mr Wendell, currently residing on my autopsy table". Bailey laughed, then handed Grace the memo he was reading. She read it, and then laughed. "Bailey, Aren't you happy with the thought of a woman in charge?" She laughed again at his expression and then said "It will be worse for John, he barely copes with Rachel." Reluctantly Bailey laughed, everyone in the control center had experienced the fallout from a Rachel/John disagreement. "I look forward to being there when you break the news," she continued, and handed him the autopsy report she had come to deliver.  
  
Rachel Burke gazed at the man sitting opposite her, as the plane began its descent onto the airport runway. "There's no need to sulk," she said, glaring into his angry blue eyes, "I know you wanted to beat a confession out of that creep, but I can't allow anything to screw up our case, certainly not police brutality!"  
  
"I had no intention of beating up anyone," came the angry reply, "I just wanted to see if I could get any more out of him, like where he buried that girl's body - just for the family's sake. I don't know why you seem to think I need to beat people up all the time!"  
  
"Oh come on John - that's all you're on this team for - muscle for Bailey!" she sniped back at him. Confused at her bitchy tone, John turned away and looked out of the window, wondering what had happened to his relationship with Rachel. Just before her arrest earlier in the year, they had become good friends, after a very rocky start, but since her release, (in which he had played a significant part!) he thought bitterly, they couldn't seem to be in the same room with each other without annoying one another, certainly anything he said was greeted with scorn and derision.  
  
Rachel stared at the back of his dark head, wishing she could take back some of the things she had said - but her pride wouldn't allow it - there was something about John that just rubbed her up the wrong way - maybe it was his arrogant way of folding his arms, and looking down on her when they talked, or maybe it was the way he narrowed his expressive eyes, maybe it was his expensive way of dressing, whatever, he just annoyed her, and she loved picking and pecking away at him till he lost his temper, and then chiding him for losing it.  
  
They walked through the airport terminal, towards the car awaiting them, and she noticed how women turned to look at him, some covertly, others quite openly, and it made her angrier than ever. She supposed he was quite attractive to look at, (but not her taste at all, she told herself) besides he was irritating, no matter how blue his eyes were, or how broad his shoulders! And suddenly, when he had found a way to free her from jail, and had wanted to be friends, she couldn't stand him any more! Besides, it was much more fun baiting him, watching him try to hold onto his temper, and being ever so superior when he lost it.  
  
Rachel shook her head to clear her thoughts. This was the trouble with tying up loose ends, she thought to herself - all the hard work was done, and she had way too much time to think of other things. She worked best under pressure, as did all the team really, and the humdrum of finishing up things left her a little flat.  
  
Poor John, she thought, I can be such a bitch. Mike, her older brother, was always telling her she would never hold onto a man, because of her acerbic nature. "You'll always want to be on top!" he would say. She mentally agreed with him, even though it wasn't what she wanted - she hated going home each night to her empty apartment! But to soften at all, to let any cracks appear in her tightly woven image, was to show weakness, and Rachel Burke could never be weak!  
  
John opened the car door for her, with exaggerated politeness and she sat down, smiling sweetly and insincerely at him; then wincing as he slammed the door shut.  
  
"Still sulking John?" she asked, and watched his knuckles turn white as he gripped the steering wheel, "Perhaps I should drive - you know what they say don't drive ang.." "Why don't you shut up," John said, cutting her off. "Oh please," she snapped, "What a comeback!" The rest of the drive to HQ was done in total silence.  
  
Grace was sitting in the canteen when Rachel walked in, and called her over. "Grab a coffee, I've got some gossip." "Good" said Rachel, "I could use something to take my mind off that man." "John?" asked Grace sympathetically and Rachel nodded. "He is driving me insane" she said. Grace smiled to herself, wondering why everyone could see the attraction that sparked between the two of them, but John and Rachel themselves!! "Bailey will be telling us officially, but they are sending out another CO from head office someone to quote 'share the load' with Bailey. He's not happy about it."  
  
Rachel sipped her coffee "Gosh - another member of the team - hope it won't upset the balance, we all work so well together!" she said, blithely ignoring the upheavals that went on when she and John clashed. Grace giggled "What's more" she added, "It's a woman!" Rachel laughed, and she and Grace wandered into the control room, where George was inputting data into his computer.  
  
"Hi guys," he said, without looking up - "Finished in Austin, Rach.?" "Yes, all done, and now awaiting trial" she answered. "The only thing is, we couldn't get any more information about the last murder - he flatly refuses to tell us where the body is." And then as John and Bailey came down the steps, she added provocatively "John wanted to beat it out of him, but I wouldn't let him."  
  
"I did not!" said John loudly, and then slammed his notebook on the table when Rachel just smiled. Bailey sat at the end of the table and pulled out the memo.  
  
"As from tomorrow," he said, "we will be joined by a Carolyn Ross. She will be second in charge." A stunned silence greeted his pronouncement.  
  
"2IC!" said John - "Do we need a 2IC?" "Apparently HQ thinks we do" replied Bailey. "Ms Ross has never been 'in the field' but is very highly qualified - a lawyer I believe - and the powers that be believe she will be a valuable part of our team."  
  
"2IC" said John again; then slanting a sideways look across the table "I always thought that Rachel thought she was 2IC."  
  
"Ha ha." replied Rachel "I don't mind another woman coming on the team, we need to get our brain power from somewhere. - No offense George -" she smiled at him, "But you are the computer genius - Bailey you are the boss - and of course John, you are the door-kicker!" Grace started to laugh, and turned it into a cough when she encountered a furious glare from John's eyes. "Well" Rachel went on dismissively "whenever you need a door kicked in Bailey, - its always John that does it!"  
  
Bailey also laughed, and leaned across the table. "Don't let her get to you John," he said, "it's what she's trying to do." John folded his arms defensively across his chest, and glared at Rachel. 


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2  
  
Carolyn Ross sat in the padded leather chair across the desk from Bailey Malone, tapping one long and shaped fingernail on the arm of the chair, as she watched him read the report she had presented him with. He was still a remarkably attractive man, and she was very pleased to finally be meeting him. She had heard much about him in the Boston Office, he and the VCTF team, their amazing success, and also their amazing long term hunt for the serial killer Jack-of-All-Trades, which had taken almost 5 years! She had worked long and hard to be assigned to this department, and had personal reasons to come here - reasons that must not be made known to Bailey Malone or his team, or indeed anyone from the FBI at all.  
  
Bailey looked up at her, she was a beautiful woman, in her early 40's, tall and slender, with long blonde hair, and deep violet eyes, a woman who knew she looked good, and had no self-doubt. "Lets go and meet the rest of the team," he said, standing up and extending his hand toward her.  
  
George looked up as Bailey came down the stairs. He smiled his pleasant smile, and extended his hand. "Pleased to meet you," he said, "I look forward to working with you." Carolyn took his hand, and smiled back "Thank you George." She said, looking around the room. "Are you the rest of the team, - or are there others?"  
  
Bailey glanced at his watch, and then enquiringly at George, who shook his head. "I don't know where .." But just then Rachel came down the stairs, holding her ever-present coffee cup. The two women looked assessingly at each other, Rachel finally smiling and introducing herself. "I've heard about you," said Carolyn "And wanted to meet you for some time."  
  
"Why thank you," said Rachel "have you found a place to live in Atlanta yet, or are you still in a hotel?"  
  
"I'm staying in the Astor at the moment, but looking around - let me know if you hear of anything."  
  
Bailey looked at his watch again and then asked of Rachel "have you seen or heard from John this morning?" Rachel grimaced "I'm not his keeper," she said "He's probably slept in again." And then to Carolyn "Come and meet Grace."  
  
Bailey explained Grace's position to Carolyn, and she then followed Rachel and Bailey to Grace's office. Grace was introduced, and then Carolyn returned to the command centre, with Bailey and Rachel. She walked down the steps, and stopped short, staring at the man sitting next to George, and obviously telling some sort of joke, as they both cracked up at the same time. John looked up at the three people, the laughter still brightening his blue eyes, and the smile fading from his face.  
  
"This is John Grant - John - Carolyn Ross." John smiled again, and put out his hand, and Carolyn shook it, staring back at him intently.  
  
"You are late," said Rachel from behind her, and John narrowed his eyes and frowned. "I've been here for an hour, at least," he retorted, "upstairs looking through those witness statements."  
  
Bailey nodded "Of course, now let's bring Carolyn up to speed with our current case load," he said, indicating a chair for her to sit on. "This is how we usually do this - throwing ideas into the middle..."  
  
A couple of hours later, Rachel let herself into Grace's office, and sat down heavily in her spare chair. "What's up?" asked Grace, putting down her pen. "Nothing," said Rachel, and sighed. "I'm just not sure about her." "Seemed all right to me," said Grace "If you like the tall, blonde and controlling type." "And bossy," said Rachel "The men couldn't stop drooling - and she's old enough to be John's mother! Well, almost.." "Seemed all right to me," said Grace again - "Nobody liked you, when you started either."  
  
Rachel laughed, Grace was right - she had been a pain, defensive and abrupt, trying to fill Sam Waters' shoes, worrying about failure and clashing with John. She sighed again, and Grace stood up. "Come on, coffee time, you are going through withdrawal, it must be at least an hour since you had a cup."  
  
She and Rachel wandered into the canteen, grabbing coffee and in Grace's case a sticky bun, and sat at one of the tables. A pretty blonde girl bounced up to them, and sat in the third chair. "Hey guys, what's the newby like?" "Tall, blonde bossy," said Rachel "What happening upstairs Sara?" "Nothing much - John was up there this morning," answered Sara, whose crush on John was the talking point of all the women in the building. "Yuk." Said Rachel "Let me arrange a date with him, for you, that would put you off." Sara shook her head, "I'd die if he knew I liked him," she said giggling - "I just like looking from afar."  
  
Grace laughed, "You make me realize how old I am," she said to the young girl. "You're not old at all Grace," said John as he walked over to them, carrying a coffee cup. Sara gulped, and went red, and Rachel laughed. "How is Ms Ross getting on?"  
  
John sighed, and gazed into his cup. "O.K. I guess," he said, "but she wants to know everything about every case we've done in the last 6 months." He glanced over at Sara and gave her a wink "Its all right though, I told her you'd be glad to help her Rachel."  
  
Rachel for once, was unable to think of a quick comeback, and picking up her cup, headed back towards her office.  
  
Carolyn, piled up with case notes, set herself up in her own office, next to Bailey's, and began sorting through them. She unpacked her briefcase, glanced at a framed photo she had inside, and then put it back into the case. Finally she logged onto the computer at her desk, and began to work steadily through her emails. She had to make a good impression, and quickly. Her plans were nearing fruition; she did not want to make a mistake now! 


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3  
  
She looked out of the office window, down into the conference area, where George was still inputting information into his computer, and where John was typing up his report. She studied him intently; able to do so while his attention was elsewhere.  
  
There were people who said she was crazy, that her plan, long held dear to her, would never work, but she knew she would find a way, and the dark- haired, blue-eyed good looking young man in front of her was the key to all. Once again, she returned to her desk, and pulled out a photograph. It was of another dark-haired, blue-eyed man with his arms around her, smiling tenderly down at her, a much younger her. Her eyes filled with tears, she would go ahead with her plan, or die trying! No matter that she had spent 5 years of her life to get here, no matter that he said he never wanted anything to do with her again, Patrick would welcome her back when she controlled his son! And if he didn't - well she would overcome that obstacle when it presented itself. She would succeed, she would!  
  
Going back into the conference area, she leaned over the back of John's chair, reading his report, her hand on his shoulder. He half turned and looked up at her in surprise. "Can I help you with anything?" he asked.  
  
"No," she replied, and turned to George. "I need to look at all the personnel files, can you sent them to my computer?" George nodded, and looked cautious. "Does Bailey...?"  
  
"I requested them, that's all you need to know," she said tersely, "I do not want to have you people running to Malone for confirmation of my orders," and turned and walked back into her office.  
  
"Whew," said John, raising his eyebrows at George, "That's telling you!" George still looked worried. "That's all classified stuff," he said, "I am going to check, she can do what she likes."  
  
"Be careful George," said John smiling at his friend, "she looks like she's a bit of a tartar. And what was that leaning over me thing? I felt really awkward." "I feel like I'm back at school," said George, picking up the phone, "And you're with me in class, about to get me into more trouble!"  
  
John smothered a laugh, and looked over at Carolyn's office. "Oh shit, she's only looking out at us," he said, "Now I feel like I'm back at school!" and laughing some more, he sat back down, and pretended to resume his report, slanting a sideways look at George, who also laughed, but asked Bailey over the phone for confirmation of Carolyn's security code. "So it's all right to give her the personnels?" he asked, nodded and hung up. "I guess she can have whatever she wants," he muttered to John, "but stop laughing, or she'll know we are laughing at her and get into big trouble." "I don't know," said John quirking an eyebrow - "Perhaps a few cuts with the cane.?" "Or detention and 100 lines," added George, and they both laughed even more.  
  
Rachel walked down the steps and sat down the other side of George. "What are you two laughing at?" she asked, as she opened her laptop. "You wouldn't understand - it's a humor thing," said John quickly. "You don't understand funny." "Oh ha ha," she replied, "George?" "John and I have just been told off, like school boys," George replied, still chuckling, "it feels a little strange." "Well perhaps I might like her after all," said Rachel, "if she's already on your case."  
  
George pretended to look hurt "Hey," he said, "I thought it was only John you didn't like," he said. John stood up abruptly, and headed out of the room. "It is a mutual thing," he said to George, as he left. 


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4  
  
Carolyn Ross read her screen with avid expectation. She read all about John Grant, how he had transferred from the Atlanta Police Department 6 years before, and how much money he was being paid by the Government, and most importantly, where he lived.  
  
There was no mention in this file of his change of name, but she knew. She had been his father's constant companion and lover for a long time, and was still in love with Patrick O'Doyle, even though she had not seen him for many years. Patrick had pushed her out of his life, and she was only able to cope with everything, by concentrating on the fact that he would take her back, no, beg her to come back to him, when she took out (what she imagined was) his revenge on his son. She had been knocked sideways by John's resemblance to his father; he looked almost exactly like Patrick did when she first met him, all those years ago. Patrick, of course, had black hair, not brown, and spoke still with a slight soft lilting Irish accent, not the American drawl of his son, but the similarities were startling. Just looking at him had made the tightness in her chest worse, and her heart start thumping.  
  
She was still unable to accept that Patrick would not take her calls, and had his 'heavies' remove her from his office and home every time she tried to see him. She knew that maybe she had gone too far, that last time, but all she had ever wanted was to be his wife and to have his children, and it made her beyond furious to think the wife he had, and the child he had, did not want him, and therefore he did not want any others. She had eventually eliminated the wife - a 'car accident' she had arranged, but John had been at college when that happened, and had come to blame his father for his mother's death.  
  
It had suited her purposes to drive them even further apart, but somehow Patrick had found out - She would not think of that now - he would take her back - he would!  
  
"Are you all right?" came a concerned voice, and she looked up out of her trance, at Grace, who had entered her office. Carolyn took a ragged breath, "Oh err yes," she replied thinking quickly, trying to slow her heart beat and breathing, "I haven't had anything to eat today, and am feeling a little weak. First day nerves and all that."  
  
"Well come to the canteen with me," said Grace, a little concerned, "You look pale - don't let this place do that to you. Bailey is a very laid back boss, and the rest of the team are great, you need not worry." "Why thank you Grace, I'd like the chance to have a chat anyway." She said, and followed Grace out of the room.  
  
They sat down in a quiet corner of the canteen, and Carolyn sipped her coffee. "How long have you been here?" she asked "About 8 years in the FBI, six in the VCTF," replied Grace, "Before that I worked for the Coroner for several years. - And before that I was a trauma doctor in the emergency department of the Atlanta Hospital. My mother is still horrified I left medicine for forensics and pathology, but I find it fascinating. And of course, the added bonus is never having a patient who complains."  
  
"Have you worked with Bailey Malone for all that time?" asked Carolyn "Most of the time here has been with Bailey," replied Grace, "Bailey and Sam Waters, who was our Profiler before Rachel, and John we all started about the same time, then George joined us a little later, and Rachel two years ago, when Sam retired."  
  
"Do you all socialize after work? Is there any particular hang out?" Carolyn asked "Not really," replied Grace. "Bailey and John go to the police gym a couple of times a week, -if they have time that is, and sometimes Rachel as well. I have two small children at home, so there is no hanging around in bars for me. Sometimes George and John will have a drink at the bar across the road, but it's not a set thing. We work sometimes 12 or 13 hours a day - at least the others do, I now do as few hours as I can, because of the kids."  
  
"And what do you think of the others?" Carolyn asked quietly. Grace looked at her, and smiled. "They are a great team, if that's what you mean," she replied cautiously, "And each of them are my good friends." And with that, she left the table.  
  
Carolyn finished her coffee, and returned to her office. She picked up her phone, and automatically dialed his number. When his voicemail answered, she left him another message, another reminder of her undying love, and hung up, her eyes on the screen of her computer, her brain whirling in circles. 


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5 Turn Around  
  
CHAPTER 5  
  
When Rachel left her office, and headed toward the elevator, she was joined by Carolyn. "Tough first day?" she asked her, as they waited for the lift. Carolyn smiled, "Not really," she said, "it's going to take time, to get to know everyone, and how they think."  
  
Rachel looked up the corridor, and saw John and George approaching. "Well, some of us think lots of things," she said "And others, like John, don't really think anything at all." John narrowed his eyes, and frowned at Rachel. However he ignored her and smiled tentatively at Carolyn, who was watching him.  
  
George turned to Rachel - "Are you going to the gym tonight?" he asked "Or do you want to have a drink?" "Oh have a drink with me George," she said quietly, "I need to unwind." George smiled at Rachel, and agreed, then looked enquiringly at John.  
  
"I'm playing squash with Nathan," he said, "And I'm already late."  
  
They piled into the elevator, and George felt obliged to ask Carolyn her plans, and if she wanted to join them, despite Rachel treading quite heavily on his foot. Carolyn accepted his invitation, and turned to John. "Do you play competition squash?" she asked "Or just social.' "There's nothing very social about John and Nathan's tournaments," said George with a smile, "Its usually the last one standing that wins!" John laughed and Rachel added, "They both are about the same standard, so they both keep going for hours, till one or the other one drops. Never arrange to share a court with them, because you will never get any game time."  
  
The elevator doors opened onto the car park, and with a casual wave of his hand, John headed off towards his car, stopping to chat with another agent on his way.  
  
"We usually just head over the road for a drink," said George, indicating the way. Rachel stomped along behind them, radiating disapproval. They found a table, and George ordered drinks. "Do you miss practicing law?" Carolyn asked Rachel, as they waited. "No, not any more," Rachel answered. "I enjoy profiling, and love working with the VCTF, although it has caused its problems in my life." "I read about your problems," said Carolyn, "You were set up badly by that man. I am surprised you still work here." "Well he was only one man, not the whole department," replied Rachel, "And I have some very good friends here, some friends who stuck by me and worked their butts off to clear my name," and she smiled at George, as he returned with the drinks. "Besides which, the powers that be are so ashamed of how they treated me - us - that we have virtually a free hand now, with very little interference from headquarters!"  
  
"And you, George, do you enjoy working here?" Carolyn turned to him. "Very much so, and I have had my difficulties too," he replied. "But my friends here stood firm behind me, - I guess you could say that each of us has had some bad times," he went on to say, "But we are all still here!"  
  
"And John Grant," Carolyn said, "You and he don't appear to enjoy working with each other," and looked at Rachel. Rachel shrugged her shoulders, "John and I rub each other up the wrong way," she said, "But there is no one I'd rather have beside me in a tight spot. Oh hell, never tell him that I said that."  
  
George sipped at his drink, and said to Carolyn, in an attempt to change the direction of conversation "What made you come to Atlanta? You're from where, Boston originally?" "Yes," answered Carolyn abruptly, and turning back to Rachel, she said "And does Bailey get along with John Grant?"  
  
Rachel glanced over at George, and then back at Carolyn. "We really don't like to talk about work colleagues behind their backs," she replied, and Carolyn smiled soothingly. "I just want to know how everything stands," she said, "I'm not trying to get you to gossip," But both Rachel and George felt uncomfortable, and once more George changed the topic by asking about the work environment of the offices in Boston. 


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6 CHAPTER 6  
  
Over the next two weeks, the work came piling in, three different cases of brutal murder, one solved almost immediately the other two quite complicated and work intensive.  
  
Carolyn found out how hard the team worked, and soon had her share of interviews, dashes across the country, late night think tanks, and triplicate reports to file. She had made no move to find an apartment, still living in the hotel, close to the office. She had, however been in touch with an old friend, and made several arrangements concerning her own plans, which were coming to a head rather quickly.  
  
She had also managed to get John and Rachel to file their reports with her, and so was able to change the wording of several of them, on John's computer, to John's detriment, so that headquarters were starting to ask questions. The first inkling of any problem Bailey had was a call from his friend Peter Jennings in HQ.  
  
He walked down into the conference centre, where John was playing solitaire on his computer, and George trying to write a new program. "What's going on?" he asked John, his voice hard and angry. John looked at him in surprise, and shrugged his shoulders. "I have no idea," he replied blankly," What are you going on about?"  
  
George looked over in surprise. Bailey leaned over John, and lowered his voice. "If you have a problem here, with me or anyone else in the team, I would appreciate it if you came to me before bleating to headquarters like a spoilt brat! We need to keep the VCTF solid, not bring others into our infighting! Haven't we had enough trouble lately!" He swung away, and stalked off, leaving John staring after him in amazement, and slowly rising anger.  
  
"What the fuck?" he demanded, turning to George, who shook his head bewildered. "I have no idea what he's going on about!" John thrust back his chair, and took off after Bailey. He marched into Bailey's office, and slammed the door. By now the rest of the office people scattered around had turned to look.  
  
Bailey did not look up from his desktop. "I am too busy to talk to you at the moment," he said through clenched teeth, "Shut the door on your way out." "I have no inkling of what you are going on about," said John furiously, "And I have not said anything to anyone in Headquarters." "Shut the door on your way out," repeated Bailey. "We will discuss this tomorrow!" John stared at him in baffled anger for a long moment, before spinning around and walking out. He shut the door without breaking the glass, but it was a close thing, and stalked off down the corridor.  
  
Rachel stuck her head out of her office, and then went into Bailey's. She looked at him for a moment, as he sat with his head in his hands, and then softly "What's up?" Bailey raised his head and looked at her. "I've just heard a few things from a mate in head office," he said quietly, "John has apparently been backstabbing and undermining us lately, all his reports seem to be filled with everyone's shortcomings." He sighed heavily "I rely on John, so much, and I thought we were close, friends more than work colleagues, and err - I guess I'm just shattered by his disloyalty." He sighed unhappily again.  
  
Rachel sat down biting her lip. "That doesn't really sound like John," she said. "Maybe there's a mistake." "No mistake," replied Bailey, "I've checked with Carolyn, all she does is read the reports and send them on. She said she has been surprised by the tone of them as well, but thought they must have always been so." "Well," began Rachel slowly, "I know John and I clash a little bit," and Bailey raised his eyebrows at her understatement, "but I find it very hard to believe," "You are one of the people he has complained about," said Bailey, and Rachel frowned. "Really?" she said, "He complained about me? What are you going to do?" "Tomorrow, when I can think more clearly, he can explain himself to me, and to you as well!" Bailey felt his temper rise again, and Rachel reached over and touched his hand. "It's OK Bailey, we'll sort it out," she said soothingly "If he doesn't have a good explanation, kick him out, we don't need that sort of person working here. If he's complained about me I am more than willing to join the hanging party!"  
  
At that moment, Carolyn walked into the office, and smiled at Bailey. "No problems?" she asked, and Rachel stood up. "Nothing up with me," she replied and walked out. She still found it hard to like that woman; she felt there was something cold and controlling about her.  
  
As she went down the corridor, the door to the men's bathroom opened, and John came out, frowning. Rachel stopped and turned to look at him, frowning back. "You can be a prick sometimes," she snapped at him, and he turned his angry blue eyes on her. "Not you too," he said, and turned away from her, but she grabbed his arm. "I never thought you would be a backstabber," she said, "Its such a petty thing." "I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about," he informed her, "And I care even less," and he pulled away from her, and stalked off down the corridor.  
  
He was hurt and angry; he decided there was nothing urgent he needed to do, so he punched the call button on the elevator. He would go home and have a drink!  
  
Carolyn watched through the blinds in her office, her heart thumping. She had caused a  
  
large crack to appear in the work environment, tonight she would strike.  
  
Is anybody out there reading this story at all? At least one review, good or bad, would be nice. 


	7. Chapter 7

I just want to say thank you to you two kind people, who bothered to review my story, it makes such a difference to know its actually being read, and enjoyed. Thank You again!  
  
CHAPTER 7  
  
At 11.30pm his phone rang, and John sat up from his lounging position on the sofa in front of the television, and grabbed it. "Its Carolyn, there's been a body found in a shed in Lincoln Estate. Bailey and Rachel are on the way, I'll stop by and pick you up in 15," came the crisp voice, and then she hung up.  
  
John yawned, and rubbed his eyes, he had had quite a few whiskies and was tired, cranky, and not expecting Bailey to be calling him out at this time of night, after the kind of day he had had! He got up quickly, and went into the bathroom, stripping off his old track pants, and jumping under the shower. He'd freshen up; it would make him be able to think clearly. He dressed quickly but casually in jeans and a black shirt and coat, clipped his gun and mobile phone to his belt, and was ready by the time Carolyn's car appeared in his car park. He locked the door behind him, and pocketing his keys, ran down the stairs and jumped into the seat next to Carolyn. She drove slowly out of the car park, and proceeded down the street. "So what information do we have?" he asked, and she shrugged but didn't speak. He looked at her and caught a gleam in her eyes from the light of a passing streetlamp.  
  
"I don't know anything," she eventually said, her voice was quivering with some sort of suppressed emotion. "Just that Bailey wanted me to pick you up, and meet him there."  
  
They drove for a while, John sitting beside Carolyn in silence wondering if Bailey was ready to explain his strange behavior of today, Carolyn wondering how soon Patrick would come to her. She was trembling with excitement, her hands wet with perspiration clasping the steering wheel, her heart racing, her breathing quickened. After a long while, John said, "How far out are we going?" as they had cleared the city limits, and were heading into a semi- rural area.  
  
"Not much further now," she replied and eventually turned off the main road, onto a dirt track. The car bumped along for a short way, then turned again. It was extremely dark, the narrow track lit by the headlights of the car showed it was very overgrown. John peered out at the trees passing by. "It looks like this track is not used much," he said, and Carolyn nodded. "It's very isolated," she agreed. "I wonder if we've beaten the others here?" and she pulled the car up to an old farmhouse. John got out of the car, and waited for her to catch up. "Where is the body?" he asked, "And where are all the police? Have we come to the right place?"  
  
"Oh yes," said Carolyn, as a large dark figure loomed up beside her, "This is the right place, and I'm afraid, yours is the body," John half turned at her words, then as the large man appeared, went to pull out his gun, but before he could do anything, he was savagely hit across the side of the head, and fell to the ground, unconscious! Carolyn laughed in delight, and indicated to her accomplice that he drag John inside, into the room she had specially prepared.  
  
When John regained consciousness, it was becoming light. His head hurt, and he felt sick, and opening his eyes was the last thing he wanted to do. He lay inert for a long time; he could feel he was lying on something hard and rough, and that he was unable to move his right arm. When he opened his eyes, the room started spinning, and he struggled with the urge to throw up, so he shut them again quickly.  
  
Finally he managed to overcome his nausea, and opened his eyes again. He was lying on some sort of hessian mattress, on the floor of a basement; his right arm was handcuffed to a large pole set in concrete next to the mattress. The rest of the room was empty. There was a small window, set high up in the opposite side of the room, and through it came the weak and soft light of dawn. He could feel a sticky wetness, drying now, on his temple. The room was festooned with cobwebs, and thick with dust, except for the dragmarks which his body must have made, when he was brought in here. There was a door off to one side, and some wooden stairs leading down from above. He half dragged himself to a semi-upright position, hanging onto the pole for support, and vomited violently, over and over, till he could do no more, and then clung to the pole shivering helplessly. He heard footsteps overhead, and then a door opened, the footsteps came slowly down the wooden stairs, and he found himself looking at his captor. "Well you are awake, and look at the mess you have made," she said, looking down at him, her eyes glowing with excitement.  
  
"Carolyn, what the hell." he began, but she cut him off by yelling out "Donny, bring the hose down here - our guest seems to have made a mess of himself." She looked back up the stairs, at the man who came slowly down. He was a big, big man, bigger than John by at least a head, and much much heavier. John looked into Donny's face, and was dismayed to see the emptiness there.  
  
"This is Donny," she said to John, with a smile on her face. "Donny is a special friend of mine, he will do anything I tell him to do, so it's useless for you to even try to talk to him. He is very protective of me, aren't you pet, and will get very angry if you say anything to him at all. You don't want to see Donny angry, trust me." And she patted the large man on the arm.  
  
John blinked his eyes to clear his sight, which was still fuzzy and tried again "What do you want from me? Why have you done this?" "I don't want anything from you," replied Carolyn "I'm doing this for Patrick." And she sighed longingly.  
  
"What do you mean, for Patrick - not O'Doyle?" asked John, beginning to jerk his arm against the restraints. "What the hell has he got to do with this? Did he ask you to imprison me?" and he savagely tugged at the handcuffs which held him to the post.  
  
"I'll be gone for a while," she said, turning on her heels, and starting up the steps. "Be good for Donny, and he won't hurt you." And she left the cellar, ignoring his shouts. Donny had not moved the entire time, but now he turned the hose on, and water gushed out over the concrete, over John and soaked him. There was nothing he could do to avoid it, and the cold water quickly saturated his clothing. Then Donny turned it off and walked up the stairs, not registering any emotion, leaving John cold, wet, and still in pain from the blow on his head, with nowhere to sit or lie down that wasn't wet.  
  
He didn't know how long he stayed there, leaning on the post, shivering and shaking but he heard the car start up, and drive away, and a long time after that, the footsteps coming back down into the basement. He raised his head, and saw Donny standing there. For the first time he felt fear, as he was at this man's mercy.  
  
"I need to use the bathroom," he said, "I don't feel well." Donny didn't say anything, but came closer, and showed John a gun he was holding. "I just need to use the bathroom," John said again - I don't want to throw up all over the floor again."  
  
This time, Donny indicated that John should kneel down, and grabbed his right arm, twisting it savagely, so John was powerless to do anything. The handcuffs were unlocked, then Donny grabbed his left wrist, and handcuffed that. At least he was free of the post!  
  
He then indicated the door, which opened off the basement, and John could see led to a bathroom. He staggered inside, and closed the door. There was no window; it was a basic small room, empty except for a shower and toilet. There was one grimy towel hanging over the shower rail. John was pleased to see it; he could at least try to clean himself up a little. He could only do so much with his hands cuffed in front of him.  
  
He turned on the tap and rinsed his mouth out, to try and get rid of the horrible taste, then looked around. Donny rattled the door; he obviously thought John had had enough time. Then as he turned off the tap, he looked in the sink, and smiled a little. There was an old hair clip caught around the trap, and he maneuvered it free, sliding it up the sleeve of his shirt. Then he opened the door, and was pulled back to the post.  
  
The floor was a littler drier, but the mattress was still very wet. He looked at Donny, and asked for a drier place, but Donny ignored him, re- handcuffed him to the post, and left.  
  
It took him many hours of trying, before he managed to pick the lock, many hours of holding his right arm at the correct angle, and forcing his left hand to co-operate. His right arm was numb, his shoulder aching as well as his head, but finally he triggered the release mechanism. He had not heard anything from upstairs in a long time, the shadows were creeping across the floor of the basement, and it was almost dark again. He was still suffering bouts of uncontrolled shivering occasionally, and his clothes were still damp, making him very cold and aching all over, and his movements very slow, but now he was free, he was going to get out of this place. The whole day he had not allowed himself to think of anything other than escaping, not the fact his father obviously wanted him dead, nor that his friends were blaming him for something he didn't do, just escape. He knew that Carolyn would be back sooner or later, and she would be harder to get away from than the simple man upstairs.  
  
He crept across the floor, and climbed the stairs. The door at the top was not locked, he opened it quietly and cautiously, there was no one in the run down kitchen beyond. He slid around the corner, and started down a small passage, towards what he hoped was an exit door treading softly and cringing when a floorboard creaked.  
  
However at that moment a door opened to his left, and Donny appeared, holding a gun. John lunged for the front door. Unfortunately the concussion he was suffering made him slow and clumsy. He tripped and Donny was on top of him. They rolled around punching at each other. John was at a disadvantage, he was still shaky, cold and not moving freely, and knew he was not going to win any long or protracted fights.  
  
He only had one chance, to finish quickly and get away. He twisted the other man's arm behind his back, and heard it crack. The bigger man screamed out in pain, and collapsed face down on the tattered carpet. John took several attempts himself to rise, and was about to stumble out of the door, when he heard the click of a gun being cocked.  
  
He turned slowly, and saw Donny sitting up, and pointing John's own gun at him. The large man was bleeding slightly from the nose, and had tears of pain running down his cheeks. The gun was held steady in his good hand. Then something smashed into John, and spun him around, he felt the room sway, and the floor coming up to hit him.  
  
The last thought he had was that he could see himself cold, dead, naked and exposed on Grace's autopsy table, with the rest of his friends standing around. With Grace about to cut into him, and Rachel looking down at him with her beautiful green eyes, watching him with scorn and gloating. As the darkness claimed him he managed to whisper her name, then he knew no more. 


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry for the delay (to the two or three people who are reading this story) - My computer got a virus, crashed and has only just been revived, by emergency surgery and prayer! Hope you are enjoying this, please let me know...  
  
CHAPTER 8  
  
Rachel had had a trying day. She had arrived at work early, and met Bailey and George in the elevator on the way down. She studied up on some notes, and then spent most of the morning in court, giving evidence on a particularly nasty case. By the time she got back to the office, just after lunch, Bailey was in a foul mood.  
  
"I have no idea where he is," he was yelling into the phone, when she entered his office. He hung up and Rachel sat down. "What's up now?" she asked. "John has gone A.W.O.L." Replied Bailey. "He knew I wanted to sort out this bloody mess today, and he hasn't bothered to come in. He hasn't even bothered to ring in." "He was handling those witness statements from the Handley case," said Rachel, "I need to see those, and today! Is he sick?" "I wouldn't know," replied Bailey, "But he will wish he was when I catch up with him. This is the last straw - I'm putting in an official complaint, he can answer to the disciplinary tribunal."  
  
George knocked softly on the door, as he entered Bailey's office. "He's still not answering his phone, or his mobile - I've left messages on both - several to be exact." "Thanks George," said Bailey, shaking his head. "Leave it for now, with Carolyn on special leave, it's making us short staffed - let's concentrate on what we have on the Hanley case, and not worrying on John's monumental sulking fit! We have a killer to catch!"  
  
It was nearly 6.00 p.m. and most of the day staff had left to go home. Rachel sat at her desk re-reading the information she had on this latest brutal murder, the eye witness reports, and the police report, her eyes were tired and she lent her head into her hand and closed them briefly.  
  
Suddenly she gasped and sat upright, shuddering with a brief cold spasm. Her heart began to beat fast, and she could hear the blood rushing past her ears. She left her office and ran into Bailey's. "Bailey, I think .I'm not sure, but I feel as though something's happening - something is happening but I don't know what." Bailey, who had been smoking a cigar, and leaning back in his chair, sat upright and then came around his desk to her, pushing her down into a chair with concern. "Rachel, are you alright? What are you on about? Is it the case?"  
  
She sat down and took a deep breath. "Maybe I dropped off to sleep - no I don't think so, but I feel like I've had a nightmare." She looked down into her clasped hands. "I think something's happened to John - I almost heard him call my name, - no I'm dreaming - sorry Bailey." Bailey looked at her in concern, and went to his cupboard and poured her a glass of water. "I've never seen you upset like this Rachel. Are you sure you didn't have an actual nightmare? How could you hear John call you? Is he in the office somewhere?"  
  
Rachel took the water, and shook her head. "I'm sorry Bailey, I have such a strong feeling of fear, or shock or something. Maybe it is a dream. I'd like to go to John's place, and see if he is there." Bailey put out his cigar, and grabbed his coat. "I'll come with you - but I have no reason to believe he isn't alright."  
  
"There's his car," said Rachel, as they pulled into the apartment complex's car park. They crossed the pavement, and entered the building, climbing to the first floor, and knocked on John's door. After a few moments, Bailey pulled out a bunch of master keys, and began trying them in the lock. The third one he tried opened the door. John's apartment was reasonably neat, a half full whisky glass sat on the coffee table, and a newspaper was strewn across the sofa. His bed was made, some clothing and a towel were thrown across the end of it, there was nothing out of the ordinary. There was no sign of John. His answering machine was flashing, and recorded 5 unanswered calls. There was one from his friend Nathan, canceling a squash game, and three from George, and one from Bailey, all demanding to know his whereabouts and why he wasn't at work. As they let themselves out, and down the stairs, the elderly lady in the apartment directly below John's came out of her door.  
  
Bailey asked her if she had seen John that day, but she shook her head. "I saw him go out late last night, and get into a car with a blonde woman," she said. "It must have been almost midnight, her lights shone in my window and woke me up." Bailey thanked her, and he and Rachel returned to their car. "Well, there you go," said Rachel tightly, "Off with one of his 'lady' friends - no wonder we couldn't find him, he could be shacked up in any sleazy hotel. I can't believe I let myself worry about him."  
  
They returned to the VCTF, and collected George, before going to the bar across the road for a drink. Rachel couldn't shake the uneasy feeling she had, but turned her inner qualms into anger. She thought John had stopped being such a tomcat, it disgusted her. 


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9  
  
When Rachel arrived at work the next morning, Bailey was already there, talking in the conference room to George and Grace. "Gracie's finished the report on the latest body pulled from the river, we need to get some information on this killer before he strikes again," he started. "And if Mr. Grant does not appear this morning, I am definitely filing a report, I will not tolerate this sort of slackness with my staff!" They began to go over details of the case, each of them putting forward ideas and encouraging Rachel to enter the mind of the killer and develop a profile. George slipped away once, and dialed John's mobile number, but got the same message as yesterday. He returned to the conference room, just as the phone rang. It was for Bailey, and he answered curtly, then his face changed expression, and George and Rachel stopped talking to look at him. "Send him down," he said into the phone, and hanging it up turned to look at the others. "That was Patrick O'Doyle on the phone, he's here, in Atlanta, and wants to speak to me - to us."  
  
"Isn't O'Doyle John's father?" asked George, in amazement "What could he possibly want to talk about with you Bailey?" "Well he does have gangland connections," said Bailey "But he has never made any attempt to come into this office - as you know John had nothing to do with him for many years - won't even hear his name spoken. Maybe it's to do with the mob?" He stood up and walked up the steps towards the elevator.  
  
Rachel looked at George in surprise. Grace sat down at the end of the table. "This will be very interesting," she said, "I've always wanted to meet the infamous Patrick O'Doyle." Rachel looked incredulous. "Are we talking about the money guy, in Boston, that O'Doyle? Did Bailey say he was John's father? What's going on?" "Long story," said George, "Bad blood between them, John doesn't like talking about it. Changed his name a long time ago."  
  
Bailey returned to the room. "This is Patrick O'Doyle," he said, by way of introduction. The man that followed him down the steps smiled briefly at those in the room. Rachel looked intently at him, he was slightly taller and heavier than John, and was younger than she expected, had dark thick graying hair, longer than John wore his, but exactly the same shaped dark blue eyes, and prominent bottom lip. He was expensively dressed in a charcoal suit, immaculate grey shirt, and silver tie. He wore a heavy gold signet ring on the small finger of his right hand. Bailey turned to face him, his face very hard. "What can I do for you?" he asked abruptly. Patrick O'Doyle gazed into Bailey's black eyes for a minute, then indicated if he could sit down. "I have for some time - years, been stalked by a woman," he said slowly. Bailey didn't move "That's what we have a police force for," he said. O'Doyle smiled wryly. "The police and I are not on the best of terms, as I'm sure you know boyo.," he said, and Rachel could hear a soft Irish lilt in his voice. "This woman, who was my 'assistant' many years ago, has for a long time believed herself in love with me, and with little or no encouragement. I did have a relationship with her for a while, many years ago, but broke it off when I found out what she was capable of doing. I believe she is not quite right in the head." "This is of course, very interesting," said Bailey frostily, "But what it has to do with me, I don't see!" "This is her picture," said O'Doyle, and passed Bailey a photo. He looked at it, then handed it to Rachel in stunned silence. "It's Carolyn," said George in shock. "No - her name is Christine Landers. Carolyn Ross is my wife; this woman has assumed her identity. She did it to get close enough to my son to do him harm." Rachel closed her eyes in shock - and looked at Bailey. "Bailey the blonde woman in the car - it must have been her." She said, biting her lip, feeling the unease of yesterday sweep back into her veins. Bailey swore violently. "We haven't heard from John since early yesterday - no it would be the day before. We had a disagreement, and he stalked out of the office, and hasn't been heard of since."  
  
"Christine Landers left several messages for me on my voicemail yesterday. Well, she does nearly every day, but this is something different. She wanted me to come to Atlanta today. She has something of interest to show me. Something that will change my life - something that will free me from the constraints and disappointments of the past, - something that will make me understand 'how much she loves me', and take her back into my life." Patrick O'Doyle looked around at them. "The last time she was this animated she killed my wife - John's mother, pushed her car off the road and over a cliff!" George gasped, the others all looked shocked and worried.  
  
"She would never believe in a million years I would come to the law for help," he continued "She knows how the Law and I feel about each other, but I truly believe that it's time we buried our differences and worked together on this. I have been a bastard for a long time, but I can't let this go on. I can't let her kill my son, even if he hates me, which he does. And with good reason."  
  
Bailey sat down heavily in his chair. "What do you need us to do?" he asked "Where does she want this meeting to take place? O'Doyle described the meeting place, and Bailey began mobilising his forces. He spoke to the local police chief and began arranging back up. George began to search through maps on his screen, and arranged to hook O'Doyle's mobile up to the tracing mechanism, so if she called again, they would be able to pin point more accurately where she was. O'Doyle had already arranged for his staff to patch calls from Carolyn/Christine through to his mobile, and filter out any others.  
  
Rachel then offered him coffee, while they waited for events to unfold. She sat opposite him, watching his face and the emotions that animated him. He looked up to see her regarding him, and smiled at her. She felt a lump come into the back of her throat, he smiled exactly the same way John did. "I work very closely with John," she said to him. "I can't understand why you and he are so..." Her voice trailed off as she realized she was getting to a very private area of his and John's life, but he shrugged his shoulders and bit his bottom lip, (another of John's habits she thought) and leaned forward towards her. "It's a very long story," he said, "and one that is not flattering to me at all. But I'm willing to tell it to you, if you are willing to listen. Just one thing though - are you a friend to my son, or just a colleague?" 


	10. Chapter 10

With many thanks to Viki P for reviewing. I hope you continue to enjoy.  
  
CHAPTER 10  
  
Rachel looked down into her coffee cup. "We clash all the time," she admitted. "I constantly niggle him to make him lose his temper, and he consequently loses his temper with me all the time." She smiled in reflection - "I guess you could say we are friends." And then she looked up at Patrick with honesty in her eyes, "And maybe we are even more than that!"  
  
"I am 54 years old, and have just learned not to lose my temper with my wife," came his reply, and he smiled again. "It was my temper that caused my first marriage to break apart. I was only 21 and she was only 19 when we fell in love. She was so beautiful, a fragile child really, and I was going to get the world and lay it at her feet. But as you know, employment opportunities for immigrants weren't that great, we were struggling to live in a very cheap and run down apartment, and then she got pregnant. There we were, a couple of kids, about to have a baby!" he sighed deeply, and then looked back up at Rachel. "Then I became desperate to find steady work," he went on to say, "And I was offered a job by someone, a job that paid big money, really big money, and it was only a little outside the law. Needless to say, I was very pleased and threw myself into this work with little heed to what she wanted. I very quickly moved her out of that cheap hole, and into a beautiful house, soon I was able to buy her anything she wanted. But she didn't like the people I worked for, she was scared of them, and she became scared of me! It didn't take a lot to make me yell and scream in those days, and although I never hit her, she would cower away from me. I think we could have been happy if she had yelled back - or even hit me with something! But she would cry, and eventually she would take the baby and run back to her parents. Now I was becoming (in my own eyes at least) a big man in the 'company' and I wasn't going to lose face by having my wife leave me. So I would go and force her to come back, and the whole cycle would start over again. We would pretend to be happy for a while, I'd try to control my temper, but eventually would lose it over some stupid little thing, and start yelling, and she would take John and run away. She became terrified of me; she made John terrified of me. Mind you I was not too worried about it back then, I was focusing on becoming the biggest money spinner in town, and went about it fists and all! I certainly did not want any cry baby for a son."  
  
He stopped talking and drew a deep breath. Rachel's deep green eyes never left his face. "Finally when she left me for about the fourth or fifth time, I decided not to chase after her," he said, "I started having affairs all over town, I was going to enjoy my freedom! Christine Landers was my secretary, and became my lover just after Noreen left for the last time. She started pushing for marriage, and by then I didn't really care one way or the other, but she persuaded me to ask for a divorce. So I went over to New Jersey one weekend to see her, and John. I knew she was living with her parents by then."  
  
He looked down at the cooling coffee cup in his hand. "It wasn't a success," he admitted wryly. "John was probably about 16 or maybe 17 years old at the time, a tall skinny kid, all I can remember is him standing next to his mother glaring at me with defiance. She was still very beautiful, but when I asked to speak to her alone, she shrank away from me, so of course, I lost my temper and started yelling again, yelling that I wanted a divorce, that I had found someone else I wanted to marry, someone who wasn't a scared child. But she was a Catholic - and divorce was a bad word to her. She refused, and I stomped out of her parents' house in a furious temper. I think I slammed the door so hard, I broke it."  
  
Rachel smiled in reminiscence. "John nearly broke Bailey's door by slamming it just the other day," she said softly. He grimaced a little, and went on. "Two weeks later, Noreen was killed in a car accident. Her car was run off the road, a very steep road. The police questioned me long and hard about it, they would have loved to lock me up for that or anything! But I had a water -tight alibi. It was several months later I began to think Christine was involved. By then I had started to end the relationship - but that started another whole situation.  
  
John came to see me in my office a week after his mother's death. He was shaking with anger and hatred; he blamed me totally, called me a murderer. He would prove my guilt, he screamed at me and was causing a huge scene. So I dragged him into my office, and I.." Patrick hesitated still looking into Rachel's eyes. "I am very ashamed of myself," he said "I tried to talk to him, but he flew at me, throwing wild punches, so I beat him, a skinny 16 year old, devastated by his mother's death, and I took my belt off and beat the crap out of him. Then I packed him back to his grandparent's house, and have never seen or spoken to him since! You see, I have no doubt about how he feels towards me."  
  
Rachel took a ragged breath. "That's really awful," she said. "I mean, the whole thing seems so sad."  
  
"I followed his career," said Patrick. "I knew when he left the university and joined the police force. I knew he did it just to get back at me! And let me tell you, there have been times when I could have cheerfully wrung his neck. He has caused me trouble; I've had raids, and tax audits and all sorts of fun things because of him. I was very glad when he changed his name. But now - I don't want him killed because of me. I've turned my life around, I'm strictly legit, and I have a wife I love very much, one who is not afraid of me. Or not afraid to yell at me if she thinks I deserve it! A wife who would like to meet her step-son one day."  
  
Bailey came over towards them, and sat down next to Rachel. "It's all fixed," he said, "as soon as you hear from her, we are ready to roll!" Rachel clasped her hands together and turned back to Patrick. "You said you were married to Carolyn Ross?" she asked "How did this Christine Landers manage to get as far as she did within the FBI?" "I originally employed Carolyn to deal with some legal issues in the Company. Christine used her credentials, she is a very experienced and very convincing liar, and I suppose she was able to carry off her impersonation without too many problems."  
  
At that moment, his mobile phone began to ring. He jumped to answer it, but George indicated for him to let it ring a few times, and set the tracer going. "O'Doyle," he said and then her voice came over the speaker. "Patrick you have decided to speak to me at last," she said, "I really want to see you." He looked at Rachel and she smiled and nodded at him, "Play along with her," she mouthed. "Keep her on the line as long as you can," whispered George.  
  
"Where are you Christine?" he asked. " I'm in Atlanta - I'll come to you." "I want you to come alone," she said and gave him directions, then "Oh Patrick, you'll be so proud of me." "Why?" he asked cautiously, "What have you done?" She laughed delightedly, "Something you've wanted to do for a long time - remember now come alone, I'll be watching for you." The phone went dead. George nodded and pointed to his screen. "She's within a couple of hundred meters of this area here," he said. "The Local police think she's in an old derelict farmhouse, just off the main highway. They have got the place in their sights, but are lying low and staying out of sight." Bailey looked at the screen. "The police say they can get pretty close, but there is no vegetation immediately surrounding the house itself, so you are going to have to go in by yourself. We will wire you up, and have people all around, but it's going to be up to you to assess the situation, and tell us when to come in." Patrick nodded, and turned to Rachel. "May I call my wife?" he asked, "I'd like to talk to her for a few minutes, before we go." "Of course," she said, and indicated her office for privacy. 


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11  
  
They drove to the meeting place, with George in the back explaining how the tiny microphone disguised as a button on his jacket, would transmit every thing said in close proximity back to them. Bailey and Rachel arranged code words he would use, to tell them when to enter the building, and made him practice them over and over. Then they got out of the car just before it turned into the dirt driveway of the old house, and hid in the thick bushes, alongside two of the local police. Patrick continued to drive up to the house. He slowly got out of the car; they could hear him breathing through the transmitter in George's hands.  
  
Patrick knocked on the door, and walked in, his hands were trembling slightly. She was sitting at a table in a run-down kitchen, and also sitting at the table was the man he knew as Donny, her second cousin, cradling his left arm with his right, and blubbering softly to himself.  
  
She looked up at him and smiled beatifically. "You're here," she said breathlessly. "Oh Patrick, you came to me." And she stood up and came towards him, her arms outstretched. He allowed her to hug him, just for a short time, and stepped back, letting his eyes sweep around the room.  
  
"You wanted me to come here, and I did," he said, "What is it you want, Christine?"  
  
She stared into his eyes, a smile trembling on her lips, her own eyes glowing with joy. She looked beautiful and sweet; he knew she was dark and dangerous. "I only want what you promised me, years ago," she replied. "You promised to love me, you promised to marry me." and her voice grew louder and more shrill.  
  
Donny looked up at him, anger on his usually vacant face. Patrick remembered Rachel's instructions, and reached out to touch her arm. "Things change," he said softly.  
  
"You changed, I never have," she replied and her eyes filled with tears. "You promised to marry me, you promised!"  
  
Patrick looked around the room again, then back at her. "Maybe we can talk about that," he said, still keeping his voice soft, 'Maybe it's not too late. What is it you wanted me here to see?"  
  
"Don't worry about that," she said tearfully, "I'm not stupid, Pat, if you are willing to talk to me now, why not all those other times? You had me thrown out of your office, not once, but many times. You wouldn't speak to me on the phone - you even had your phone number changed, all those times. I had to keep tracking down the numbers, but I did, I did, because I love you."  
  
He bit his lip, thinking furiously, "I was too involved in business," he said, still keeping his voice soft. "I wasn't aware of how much you were hurting. Let me make it up to you."  
  
She came forward again, playing with a small revolver in her hand. "You're not just saying this, do you mean it?"  
  
He nodded, and took her hand. "Christine, what is it you've brought me here to see? Are there any others here besides you and Donny?" and his eyes swept the room again. She backed away from him, her eyes hardening suddenly. 'Why do you want to know?"  
  
"You said you had someone here for me to meet? I am just interested, that's all. Who is it, Christine, who else is here with you?"  
  
She grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly. "Don't be cross," she said, "It was Donny's fault." And his heart sank at her words.  
  
"What, what was Donny's fault," he asked, his own voice getting louder. "I've got her son here, the one who made you so unhappy, that bitch Noreen. I've got her son here so you could finish it, sever any connection to her. I was going to make him crawl to you, Pat, on his knees. But."  
  
Patrick took a deep breath. "Christine - he's also my son," he said, "And I want you to take me to him."  
  
He turned slightly away from her, and dropped his head. "It's so cold in here - is there a window open? Take me to him now." And spoke the code words to activate the people listening on the other end of the wire.  
  
She stared at him for a long time, then turned and indicated a door to the left. He went to it and she grabbed his arm. "I did it for us, I did it all for us," she said and ran through the door ahead of him.  
  
John was lying on the floor in the corner of a small dark room. He did not move when the light from the kitchen slanted across his face. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow and fast. His skin was pale, and there was blood smeared across his forehead.  
  
Patrick felt a huge release, at least John was breathing. He heard the door smash open from the kitchen, heard the sound of footsteps rushing into the old house, of Donny being overpowered and Christine screamed in anger, and suddenly produced the small pistol she had been toying with earlier. "You bastard," she hissed, "You of all people, you went to the Police?"  
  
Then Rachel and Bailey rushed into the room. "Stop - stay right there," Christine screamed at them. "You knew what I wanted, you knew it was for us. Why did you go to the police, why?"  
  
"Because I can't let you keep doing this," said Patrick "I can't let you keep hurting those people who are close to me." And he looked at son, and added "And those who aren't."  
  
She began swaying from side to side, backing up until she was standing over the top of the unconscious man on the floor.  
  
"I'll kill him, I'll kill him," she threatened, tears pouring down her face. "Tell me you love me," she begged, "I'll kill him. I did this for us!"  
  
Rachel began edging towards John, but the hysterical woman waved her back. "It's too late for you, you cold bitch," she spat at her. "He's going to die. And you'll never be able to tell him how you really feel."  
  
Rachel froze. "Can't you see, there's nowhere for you to go," she said softly, "Give up the gun, we can get you help."  
  
"Patrick, I love you," moaned Christine, the gun now wavering between John and Patrick. "Why won't you marry me? I love you."  
  
"Because I'm already married," he replied, fully knowing he was pushing her over the edge. "I married Carolyn, the woman who replaced you as my assistant. The woman whose identity you stole."  
  
Christine screamed again, and sobbing turned the gun back towards Patrick. Bailey leapt forward, but was too late to stop her discharging a bullet. Everyone ducked, Patrick swore and grabbed his arm, Bailey grabbed Christine, and the gun, and Rachel ran to John, dropping to her knees to touch his face gently.  
  
"Get the paramedics," she screamed loudly, as she took in the blood matted in his hair, and the soggy, bloody bandage around his waist. "Oh John, what has she done to you," and she kept stroking the hair off his forehead, and touching his cheek, not realizing the tears were streaming down her face.  
  
Patrick came and stood next to her, clutching his left arm just above the elbow, where blood was beginning to flow. "He's alive," he said to Rachel, "He will be all right."  
  
She looked up at him wordlessly, and then at Bailey, who was handcuffing a hysterical Christine. She heard him say "..Under arrest for kidnapping and shooting a federal agent," and then she heard the sirens. "Oh God, hang on," she whispered to the unconscious man, "hang on.." 


	12. Chapter 12

I really hope that you few people out there who are reading this story enjoy this chapter. Please review, and let me know.  
  
CHAPTER 12  
  
She sat in the private waiting room at Atlanta General, twisting the chain she wore around her neck in her fingers. Bailey was talking on the phone in the corner, and George was playing with his laptop.  
  
"Where is Grace?" she asked again, for the fifteenth time, "I need Grace to be here. She could tell us what's happening."  
  
"It's alright Rachel," said George putting his arm around her. "The doctors here are excellent. They're doing everything possible. John will be o.k. He's a fighter."  
  
But Rachel closed her eyes, and relived the nightmarish experience of being crammed in the ambulance, watching the paramedic pull John's shirt off, push needles into his arm, and shove an oxygen mask on his face, and watching all the blood that just kept trickling out of the bullet wound in his stomach, no matter how the paramedic tried to stop it.  
  
At that moment, Grace came through the door, and Rachel ran up to her. "Well, what's going on? Can you find out?" she pleaded. Bailey hung up the phone and came over to them. "Is there anything you can do Grace?" he asked.  
  
"He's in surgery at the moment, there's nothing anyone can do but wait," she said soothingly. "Take a deep breath Rachel, and calm down."  
  
"But Grace, he lost so much blood," whispered Rachel. "And I was so nasty to him."  
  
Grace also put her arm around Rachel. "Dr Lewis is operating on John, he's one of the best surgeons we have. If he survived this long with a bullet in him, he can survive a little operation."  
  
Bailey sat down next to Rachel. "I feel bad I didn't listen to you earlier," he said. "Always trust your instincts. You knew something was wrong. Why don't you just lie back on the sofa here, and close your eyes for a moment. We'll wake you when he comes out of theatre."  
  
"You'll feel better," agreed Grace, "John will be out of it for a long time, rest now while you can."  
  
"I can't," she said, and began pacing up and down. "I can't sleep now."  
  
"I could," said Bailey wryly, "When I think of all the paperwork I'm facing over this."  
  
Grace watched Rachel pace for a moment, then turned to leave the room. "I'll go and gown up, and see what's happening," she said, "Then will you promise to rest?"  
  
Grace came back after a short while, and sat down next to Rachel. "They have almost finished," she said, "He will be in recovery a long while. Long enough for you to go home, have a shower and put some comfy clothes on. Honestly if you do that you'll feel so much better! I'll stay here with him in case he wakes up, but it's doubtful for a while."  
  
George nodded, "I'll drive you home, and drop you off, go to John's and grab him some stuff - some clothes and personal stuff, then pick you up and we can come back."  
  
She allowed them to persuade her, and followed George out of the hospital to the car, trying to analyze these strange new feelings that kept overwhelming her. She didn't understand why she felt so upset, or why she couldn't stop the tears pouring down her face. She only knew she had to get back to sit beside him, and be there when he woke.  
  
When they got back, Bailey and Grace were standing outside the nurse's station, talking with a doctor. Rachel rushed up, "Is everything O.K.?"  
  
"Fine," said Grace, hugging her, "You can go see him now, if you like, follow me," and she led Rachel down the corridor. "He's in there, but he'll be out of it for a long while," she said.  
  
Rachel walked slowly over to the bed, where John lay very still, a bandage on one side of his head, i.v. lines coming out of his arm, and monitors recording his slow heartbeat, and breathing tube in his mouth, drips, drains and catheters everywhere!  
  
She watched the rise and fall of his chest, in rhythm with the noise of the ventilator, and looked at the machines that he was hooked up to. There was a chair next to his bed, and wordlessly she sat down, her eyes never leaving his face. She was frightened by the pallor she saw there. She brought her knees up to her chest, and hugged them, fighting to keep the tears from spilling over.  
  
Grace watched her for a moment, then said, "I'm going home now, I've left my sister babysitting. He will be all right Rachel, he's pretty tough. I know this looks nasty, but he'll pull through."  
  
She bent down and gave Rachel a quick hug, and left the area, giving Rachel the privacy she wanted. George and Bailey came over, and Bailey looked down at John, sighing deeply. "Can I get you anything Rachel?" he asked, "Are you going to stay here?"  
  
Rachel nodded, and continued to bite her knuckles. "Can you bring me a coffee?" she finally whispered, "I can't leave here."  
  
George and Bailey headed off towards the coffee machine, two floors down. "I've never seen Rachel so upset," said George, "I thought she and John were close to hating each other lately."  
  
"Oh no," said Bailey, "I think they have both been fighting their feelings for one another for a long time. I'll get her some coffee, then leave them alone for a while."  
  
Rachel sat curled up in the chair for a long time, watching John, watching the machines beeping and flashing, and printing out numbers, watching the nurses come and go, checking their charts, checking on him. She finally allowed herself to cry properly and she cried until she felt she could cry no more, and then finally dozed off.  
  
Hours and hours later, the surgeon coming back to look at his handiwork, and to pull out the chest tube awakened her.  
  
"He's breathing o.k. on his own," he said to Rachel, "and is responding to stimuli. I was worried about the head wound, but he is coming around slowly. Our biggest worry now is infection."  
  
She stood up and stretched, her spine felt like it was in knots, but in herself she felt better. John was breathing lightly, his eyes were still shut, and his long lashes lying on his pale cheekbones, his mouth slightly open. Even as she watched, she saw him grimace slightly, and turn his head on the pillow. A nurse carrying a bowl of water, and a towel pulled the curtains around his bed. "I'm just going to wash away some of the dried blood," she said to Rachel, "You can stay if you like." Rachel shook her head, "I'm going to find a ladies room, and freshen up - I won't be long," she replied.  
  
She was back in five minutes, and the nurse was just finishing up. John was still asleep, but had moved position slightly. Avoiding his left arm, which had the i.v., she sat on his right side, and took his right hand in hers, squeezing it slightly. She had no idea what time it was, or even what day, but was content just to sit next to him, holding his hand and watching the stubble grow on his cheeks. She had a lot of thinking to do. 


	13. Chapter 13

Thanks people, for reviewing, I didn't realize that my submissions (or reviews) only accept signed (or logged in) reviews, and I don't know how to change it. So you few who reading this, I really hope you are enjoying it - Many many thanks for your kind comments!  
  
CHAPTER 13  
  
"Excuse me dear, are you Rachel?" came a voice from behind her, and she looked up at the woman who was standing there.  
  
"You don't know me, but you have heard my name. I'm Carolyn, Carolyn Ross - or should I say O'Doyle?" and she walked over to Rachel, holding out her hand.  
  
Rachel stood up slowly, and looked at her. She was quite short, probably only about 5' tall, with shoulder length dark hair, cut into a bob. She was plain and slightly plump, but had a lovely smile, and was not the glamorous 'type' that Christine Landers had been.  
  
She came and stood next to Rachel, and looked down at the man in the bed. "Oh gosh," she said softly, "He is like Patrick to look at." And she squeezed Rachel's hand gently. "I know that you probably don't want to speak to me, but I had to come. Patrick is fine; the bullet only nicked him. I can't believe the misery that woman has caused." She paused for breath, reaching out and touching John's face. "I will never be able to do this when he's awake," she said.  
  
Rachel watched her gentle movements, and knew why Patrick O'Doyle had married this woman and not the other one. She smiled and said, "There is no reason not to speak to you, it wasn't your fault that the Landers woman used your name and credentials. And although John will never acknowledge it, Patrick saved his life by getting that woman to turn the gun on himself, rather than John. So I want to say thank you, will you tell him for me?"  
  
"You can tell him yourself, dear, he's in room 201, just down the hall, and will be for at least another day. Can he come in and talk to you for a minute?"  
  
Rachel glanced back down at John. His movements were becoming more frequent; occasionally his eyes would open, but close almost immediately. He was waking up. She saw that Carolyn was waiting for an answer, and nodded. "Sure, why not, John's not going anywhere soon."  
  
He came hesitantly to her side, his right arm in a sling, and also looked down on his son. "I am so glad he will be all right," he said to Rachel, in his soft lilting voice. "And glad that everything's over." Rachel nodded, and he took her chin in his left hand, and turned it towards him. "You've been crying?" he said, "Over him?" Rachel nodded again. It was no use hiding it; everybody must have seen her cry . "It was a very brave thing you did," she said, and he lowered his gaze "But also very stupid," she added, and he looked back up at her with a twinkle in his eye. "I could dodge, which I did," he said, "But there was no way John could. I thought my chance of surviving was better than his at that time." "For which of course, he will probably never thank you," said Rachel softly, "But I'd like to - and I know Bailey will as well, for although he likes to hide it, he and John are very close as well."  
  
"Well, I owe him a lot more than that, to make up for what I put him through." Patrick touched her arm comfortingly, and at that moment John opened his eyes again.  
  
He looked at them both for a moment blankly, then closed his eyes again, but opened them again immediately. Rachel bent down over the bed. "John?" she said, and after a moment he looked up at her. "Are you waking up?" He turned his head slightly, and blinked, then in a strained whisper said, "Is that you Rachel? God I had the worst dream." and his voice tailed off as his eyes closed again.  
  
Carolyn put her hand through her husband's arm. "We'd better leave now, but I'm so glad I got to meet you," she whispered to Rachel. "If you want to talk, we are only a couple of doors down." And led her husband out of the room. Rachel took John's hand again, and was comforted by the fact that he squeezed it gently. 


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14  
  
As John swam up through the layers of consciousness, he was aware of people talking around him, aware of the fact that he no longer seemed to be lying on something hard and wet, he was warm and almost comfortable, but once more his right hand seemed to be attached to something. He opened his eyes, squinting a little at the light, and saw there were some people standing next to his bed. He was amazed when Rachel bent down out of the fog surrounding him, whispering his name. He tried to say something back, but was already being pulled back down in to the darkness.  
  
The next time he came awake more quickly, he felt his body being touched and turned slightly, and opened his eyes indignantly, wondering who was taking liberties with him.  
  
This time the room swam into focus much quicker, and he looked up to see Rachel and Grace talking to another person who was obviously a doctor. He watched them for a while, till Grace noticed he was awake, and she bent down over him.  
  
"Hey about time you joined us, Grant," she said, "You're sleeping on the job." He smiled faintly at her, and she reached out and touched his arm. The doctor then asked him how he felt (lousy) and if he could remember what day/month/year it was, and if he could remember his phone number. He then went into his routine of how many fingers/ follow the light with your eyes etc, which John found extremely tiring. Besides, he wanted to talk to Rachel, but she stayed in the background. Finally the doctor left, after writing something in a chart, and Grace also backed off, leaving Rachel standing next to the bed.  
  
John suddenly realized she was holding his hand, and smiled again, very faintly. He looked up at her, and whispered, "I have no idea how I got here, or what happened, but I'm really glad to wake up and find you holding my hand," and then looked in amazement as she started to cry.  
  
"What did I say?" he asked, "What's the matter?"  
  
"Nothing," she answered, a smile breaking out on her face. "I thought you were going to die."  
  
"And this would have made you happy?" he asked hoarsely.  
  
"Idiot," she replied, squeezing his hand again. "Just hurry up and get better."  
  
"What did happen?" he asked again, more strongly than before. "Was I shot? I don't remember anything much - did we have an argument at work?" and he looked puzzled, frowning now as he tried to remember. "Why does everything hurt, my head, my chest, even my arm? And why.."  
  
"Shush," she said, bending down to place her finger on his lips. "I'll tell you later, when you are stronger. When Bailey is here. Go back to sleep, I'll be right here," and she leaned over and kissed him gently. His eyes darkened and then closed again, but this time he was not in a drug induced but healing sleep.  
  
Rachel went into the waiting room, and rang Bailey. He informed her that he had approved a fortnight's leave for her, and that a replacement profiler was on the way from Headquarters. She told him of John's progress, and he promised to meet her at the hospital in an hour or two.  
  
When John opened his eyes again, several hours later, Bailey and Rachel were talking together, and Grace was standing at the foot of his bed reading his chart. He coughed slightly, and Bailey came to his side.  
  
"This is a fine way of getting time off," he joked, squeezing John's hand. "You o.k.?" John went to shrug, but winced, and said "Not sure, don't really feel anything at the moment.just really tired. Bailey, what the hell happened, I don't remember anything."  
  
Grace came forward, putting a hand on his forehead. "You see that machine," she said, and pointed at the heart monitor. John nodded slowly, looking up at her in puzzlement. "If we tell you what happened, and that machine's rhythm alters by one little beep, we will be thrown out of here, so don't get upset or agitated!"  
  
"I'm getting upset not knowing anything," he said hoarsely. Rachel looked at Bailey, and sat down in the chair, and reached out to take John's hand.  
  
"Well, the woman you knew as Carolyn Ross, she kidnapped you," said Bailey.  
  
John looked at him in disbelief. "Why would she do that?" he asked, bewildered, "How did she do that?"  
  
"We think she told you that you were needed on a murder scene, and drove you there. You probably got into her car without any question."  
  
John frowned in concentration, "I think I did," he said slowly, "Oh God, there was somebody there, something hit me when I got out of the car. Why would she do that? I never did anything to her.."  
  
Grace pointed to the heart monitor, and shook her head. "Don't get upset," she repeated, and Rachel squeezed his hand.  
  
"It had nothing to do with you really," she said leaning over towards him, "she was using you as bait, for someone else."  
  
"Bait? I don't understand," he said "There was someone else there, a big man, I don't think he was all there."  
  
"Carolyn Ross, or rather her name is Christine Landers, - she was using you to lure Patrick O'Doyle to her," said Bailey bluntly. "We don't know what went wrong, but at some time you were shot, probably by her accomplice."  
  
"I was trying to escape," whispered John, "I almost got out, but the floorboards creaked. I think I broke his arm - then I don't remember." He sighed, and then looked up at Bailey through narrowed eyes  
  
"Did you say O'Doyle?" he said in incredulous tones.  
  
"She found out you were his son," said Bailey, "And thought she could force him to accede to her demands, by using you as a lever. If he hadn't come to us for help, you would have died."  
  
"He came to you?" said John and his voice hardened "Did you throw him in jail?"  
  
"John, he saved your life," whispered Rachel, "He didn't have to, he could have ignored the whole thing. He came to us, and led us to where you were being held, then caused her to shoot him, instead of you. He saved your life."  
  
John's blue eyes were cold and blank. "Is he dead then?"  
  
"No, he was only slightly wounded, but that's not the point. The point is, he saved your life, and also told us that it was this woman, this Christine Landers, that caused the accident that killed your mother."  
  
John looked at Rachel angrily. "He's a liar, a cheat and a liar," and he pulled his hand out of hers, and threw his arm across his face. "I can't believe you fell for his bullshit! He's a vicious bloody criminal."  
  
Grace came forward, taking Rachel by the arm, and indicating that they leave him alone. "He's getting upset, just leave it," she whispered to Bailey and Rachel, but Rachel pulled her arm free. "John - don't shut yourself off like this," she pleaded, "What he told us was the truth," but John turned his head away, leaving his arm across his face, and said "I'm tired, please leave me alone."  
  
Rachel stood there for a moment, in frustration, and then turned on her heel. "Fine," she said frostily, and walked off.  
  
The others were waiting just outside. "Well, that went well," said Grace, sarcastically.  
  
"I'm going home for a while," said Rachel, "Can you drop me off Bailey. I'll have a shower and freshen up, before I come back."  
  
Bailey smiled "So you are coming back?" he asked gently.  
  
"Oh yes," she replied, "I'm not letting one of his sulking fits scare me off. He'll have to  
  
try harder than that!" 


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15  
  
She returned to the hospital hours later, carrying her laptop, and found that they had moved John from the acute care area to a private room.  
  
When she opened the door, he was asleep, still hooked up to the IV but the monitor was gone, the disks that had been attached to his chest removed. She crept over to the bed, and looked down at him, he looked much younger asleep, much more vulnerable.  
  
She settled in the chair next to his bed, and got out her computer, starting to sort through some statements she was trying to put in order. A little later the door opened and the nurse that had been attending earlier came into the room. She smiled at Rachel and said brightly "Back again? I'm about to go off duty, thought I'd say bye, see you tomorrow. - this is Rick, he's replacing me on the next shift," indicating the older man who came through the door behind her. They went to the end of the bed, and started leafing through John's chart. Then they left, but the male nurse Rick promised her he would return with a coffee for her later.  
  
She resumed her work, till she noticed John tossing his head around on the pillow, then he gave a moan and a half-cry and she reached down to take his hand. He woke up with a start, his eyes flying to meet hers, a gasp on his lips.  
  
"Oh," he said faintly, "I was dreaming. I thought you had gone."  
  
"I did for a while," she said, "but I've been back for ages, I only went home to shower and change. Have you finished being in a snoot?"  
  
"I wasn't in a snoot," he said grumpily. "You don't understand how things were, between O'Doyle and my mother."  
  
Rachel thought carefully about her answer. "He told me that he was the one at fault," she said softly, "but I don't want to argue with you now, not till you're much better, then we can argue all you like."  
  
He went to pull his hand away, but she held on to it firmly. 'You are not going to drive me away, so you might as well stop trying," she said to him firmly. "I've made an idiot of myself in front of everyone over you, so you are stuck with me now."  
  
He looked up at her narrowing his eyes. "What does that mean?" he asked carefully, and she smiled. " What ever you want it to," she said softly. He stared at her for a long time and then carried her hand over to his lips, and kissed it gently. "You might be getting more than you bargained for," he whispered, his blue eyes very bright.  
  
"So might you," she replied.  
  
He then levered his elbows underneath himself, and tried to sit up, wincing at the pain in his side. "I wish I could have a shower," he said "I must stink."  
  
"Oh you do, of disinfectant and antiseptic," she said. "But I think the nurse is coming back soon, maybe he will help you wash. And have a shave, you almost have a full beard there."  
  
"I haven't got any clothes," he said, looking around, "I'm sure the ones I was wearing aren't good for much now." And he pushed down the cotton blanket to his waist then stopped suddenly.  
  
"Oh," he said, blushing faintly, "I haven't got any clothes at all!"  
  
Rachel smiled at him, "George got some things for you, they must be in this cupboard. I'll get you a pair of boxers, just to save your dignity."  
  
At that moment, George walked through the door. "Bailey said you had woken up and were talking, I couldn't believe it," he said, shaking John's hand. "Boy do you look better than you did 24 hours ago." John smiled at his friend and relaxed back against his pillows.  
  
"I may need your help George," he said, and Rachel handed him a pair of red silk boxer shorts. "I'll be outside," she said smiling.  
  
She sat outside the room, watching the people rushing about, everyone having their own emergencies, and wondered at the change in herself. The knot of pain that had encapsulated her for the past several days had completely gone; she felt instead exited and peaceful, calm and strung out all at the same time.  
  
She had finally admitted to herself that she had fallen in love, and with someone she never thought she could. She had never been one to like good looking men, she thought most of them were arrogant and self-centered, in fact she thought John was arrogant and self centered when they first met, and his good looks had made her like him even less. (Drunken one night stands at Quantico not withstanding)  
  
It had taken a long time for her to realize he was warm and funny, brave and honest and not in the least self-centered. When he had lost his girlfriend Kate in a shocking accidental shooting, she had seen another side of him, and he was the one she turned to for comfort when her brother Danny died. All her sniping at him since then was just a knee jerk reaction to the inevitable. When she thought he was going to be killed before she could tell him how she felt, everything had clicked into place in her mind.  
  
She sat there for a while, feeling more content that she thought possible, till George stuck his head out of the door, and asked her if she was going to sleep there.  
  
She came back into the room, and resumed her position next to the bed. John was trying to get the television working, playing with the remote control, and then laughingly handing it to George, who managed to get a picture. They sat and chatted, till John became sleepy again, and drifted off to sleep. Rachel then decided to head home, and have a long bath, and a long sleep herself. 


	16. Chapter 16

I hope there are some people out there still reading this, and to you guys, sorry I haven't posted for a while. I would really appreciate hearing from you, if you are reading this.please?  
  
CHAPTER 16  
  
As she was leaving for the hospital the next day, her phone rang, and it was her mother, all upset because she had rung Rachel at work, to be told she was at home.  
  
"It's all right, Mom, I'm having a fortnight off," said Rachel,  
  
"Oh good, when will you be home?' came her mother's next question, "Tomorrow or the next day? We will love having you back."  
  
"Um - I can't make it home this time," said Rachel, "I have plans, but I will be home soon, I promise."  
  
"Is there anything wrong? I mean, its not like you to take time off darling, are you feeling all right? I am sure you work too hard, besides Rachel, it's your brother's birthday next Saturday week, and we did so want you to be here, Sharon is giving him a party, just a relatives thing, but you are missing out on seeing how much the baby has grown. Are you sure you couldn't make it home, just for next weekend?"  
  
Rachel smiled at the pleading note in her mother's voice. "I'll try, Mom, I really will. I may bring someone with me - would that be all right?"  
  
"Who, who would you bring? Have you got a boyfriend at last? What's he like?"  
  
This time Rachel laughed. "He's a work colleague, Mom, and not a 'boyfriend' I'm a bit too old for boyfriend/girlfriend stuff. He's just a friend, who will be staying with me for a while when he gets out of hospital later this week. He was shot a couple of days ago, long story, and we don't want to leave him on his own when they let him out. I was elected by the rest of the work team to be the one that babysits."  
  
She felt a little bad not telling her mother the truth, but her feelings were still too new and she needed to talk to John a lot more before telling anyone about them. Besides, she had determined he would have to come to stay with her anyway, she couldn't let him go home alone.  
  
"Oh well, give me a ring," said her mother, sounding disappointed, "Let me know closer to the day, whether you will be coming, alone or with your friend. Jeff will be disappointed if you don't come." And she hung up.  
  
Rachel looked around her apartment, it was much bigger than John's, she had two spare bedrooms, there was plenty of room for him. She would suggest it to him, and see what he said.  
  
When she got to the hospital, Bailey was standing at the nurse's station, talking to one of the doctors. He smiled at her as she joined them.  
  
"I was just asking about John," he informed her, as the doctor finished reading the chart in his hand.  
  
"I am very pleased at the progress he has made," he said, "He was obviously very fit before all this happened. However," he went on to say, and Rachel's heart sank. "Because it was so long before he got medical attention, we are quite concerned about infection, and his temperature is fluctuating, so we will be leaving the drip in for another 24 hours, and keep pumping antibiotics into him regularly. Also, he lost a lot of blood, so even though we replaced it, he's still very weak. But on the whole, a lot better that I expected at this time." And he finished on a positive note, smiling at them both, before turning away.  
  
"Did my replacement arrive," she asked as they walked towards John's room.  
  
"Yes, and said to say hello," smiled Bailey, "He said you were good friends. His name is Gary Locke and he said you trained together."  
  
"Oh Gary, yes we did," she said, "I'll call in later and catch up with him."  
  
John was sitting up, propped up by numerous pillows, watching the television. He had had a wash, and had managed to have a shave, and looked much better. However, he looked at them grumpily, complaining that he was not allowed out of bed for another 24 hours, and that daytime television was shocking.  
  
Rachel laughed at his miserable expression, and took the remote out of his hand. "Well you don't have to watch it," she said, "You could read."  
  
"I don't have a book," he said, "And they won't let me go to the shop and buy one!" and sounded so much like a small boy, that Bailey hid his smile.  
  
"Just thought I'd let you know the Landers woman will be appearing in court tomorrow, and Peter Kolawski will be coming by to get your statement."  
  
John nodded, "I really don't remember much," he said, "But I'll try. I don't particularly want to see her again."  
  
Bailey stayed for a few more minutes, then left, and Rachel sat on the bed, and leaned over to kiss John properly, for the first time. She stayed close to him, savoring the feel of his mouth on hers, feeling the excitement and longing rush through her veins. He was breathing faster, when she pulled away from him.  
  
"I'm not going to fast for you?" she asked slowly, "Are you sure that this is what you want?"  
  
"This is what I want," he said breathlessly, and kissed her again. "I've wanted it for a long, long time."  
  
After a long while, she sat up straight, and sighed. "You had better rest, I'll get into trouble for exhausting you." And she put both hands on his chest, and pushed him back onto the pillows.  
  
"I'm going to go to the bathroom," he said, throwing off the covers, and attempting to swing his legs over the side of the bed.  
  
"Are you allowed to walk?" asked Rachel anxiously, "Do you want me to call a nurse?" "You could help me a little maybe. I'll be all right, if I lie here much longer I'll start growing to the bed."  
  
He wouldn't admit to her how exhausted he was by the time he was back in bed, but she could see how pale he became.  
  
"Last week, I played a three hour squash game, flat out, with Nate," he said, "Now I can't even walk to the bathroom, less than 10 feet away and back, without thinking I'm going to pass out."  
  
"It was your first time on your feet," Rachel replied, "And you weren't even supposed to do that. The doctor will kill me for allowing it."  
  
"Well, if I don't start moving, it will be worse!" he muttered, "And boy I don't want to use one of those bottle things ever again!"  
  
Rachel laughed at his expression. "Do you want to put on a tee shirt?" she asked, "Cause probably some of the guys from work will call in to see you later, and although I think you look really sexy in boxer shorts, it wouldn't be good for Sarah to see you like that."  
  
"I was going to wait until they took out the drip, and why would it upset Sarah?" he asked, glancing down in surprise at his naked chest.  
  
"Oh it wouldn't upset her, don't worry," replied Rachel, going to the cupboard. "But I think it would be a good idea. She's losing enough sleep over you as it is."  
  
"What are you talking about?" he asked, as she came back with a plain white tee shirt, and started feeding the i.v. bag though one sleeve.  
  
"Oh don't tell me you are not aware of the crush she has on you."  
  
"Honestly no, does she?" he asked, lifting one eyebrow and looking pleased. Rachel took hold of his left hand and pushed it through the sleeve, after the drip line, and then pulled it over his head.  
  
"Yes, and don't let on you know, she's a sweetie and will be embarrassed."  
  
"I think you're pulling my leg," he said, shoving his other arm in the shirt, and pulling it down over his lean torso. Rachel stood back and looked at him. "I won't say any more on the subject, and pander to your vanity," she said with a smile, thinking how handsome he was, even with his hair messed up, and his face pale.  
  
"I'm not vain," he said indignantly, and then "Does she really have a crush? On me?"  
  
"You are vain," she answered, smiling at him, "And yes, she does, and so do I."  
  
He smiled back up at her, and she sat on the bed as near as she could, and he closed his eyes and sighed in a contented fashion.  
  
"Doctor Lewis said if your temperature stays normal, and you can sort of walk without too much trouble, and if you start eating properly, you could probably go home the day after tomorrow," she said after a little while. He opened one eye and smiled.  
  
"Good, although truth be told, I'm not very hungry."  
  
"But you can't be on your own." She added, ignoring his words. "You are coming to stay with me for a while."  
  
He opened both eyes, and levered himself up on the pillows. "Your place?' he said softly. "Is that what you want?"  
  
"It's that or stay here for another week or so," she said, and then added hesitantly "But you can have the spare room, if you want to."  
  
"If I want to?" Blue eyes looked intensely into green.  
  
"Or share mine," she said, with a slight blush. "Its up to you."  
  
"Well gee let me think for a moment .." He said, with a smile playing around his lips. She punched his shoulder, but then said seriously, "It is your decision, I won't push you, but you really do need to have someone around for a while."  
  
"Rachel, if I told you how much I want to share your life, and particularly your bed, you wouldn't believe me."  
  
She lent forward and kissed him gently. "There will be complications. I have a very large and very demanding family, who believe it's their God given right to stick their noses into my life, to drop in at any time and generally interfere whenever they feel like it. I have never had a serious relationship - with anybody, I want you to know that right from the start. So if you can cope with curious brothers even more curious sister in laws, and nosey parents and someone who is scared of commitment, then we should be all right. Or am I moving way too fast for you?"  
  
John raised both eyebrows. "Your family sounds great. I hope they like me. I have had several relationships, none that have lasted more than 12 months or so. I have feelings for you Rachel, I guess we can only go from there. And you know how screwed my family is!"  
  
She looked deeply into his eyes, and smiled. "Love me?" she looked down at their hands, clasped together, "I really hope you do, because I think I'm in love with you too, and it scares me."  
  
"It terrifies me!" he answered, "I wonder what they'll say at work?"  
  
"Most of them know," she said with a wry laugh. "Grace told me yesterday they were all waiting for the penny to drop. They think our little arguments at work have been all about us fighting our attraction to each other."  
  
"Well," he said "Its nice to know we are being talked about! What other sort of things do you and Grace discuss?"  
  
Rachel laughed and shook her head, and at that moment the lawyer from their department knocked on the door and then came in to take John's deposition, followed shortly by a group of colleagues from work, who all came piling in carrying chocolates and flowers. Rachel moved away from John's side, and started arranging flowers in vases. Sarah came over to her, speaking softly.  
  
"What a shock we all got," she said, "When we heard what had happened. Gosh, John looks so pale - so ill.."  
  
"He looks so much better than he did a couple of days ago," said Rachel. "He nearly died, Sarah, he just looks wonderful to me as long as he's breathing."  
  
Nathan, who was one of John's best friends, also came over to Rachel's side, and overhearing her last comment, took her hand and looked into her eyes. "It was scary, when we heard," he said, "But it must have been worse for you. Are you all right?"  
  
She nodded, "It made me realize some things," she said, "It made us both face some things."  
  
Nathan smiled "I'm glad, it's about time" he said, "We won't stay too long," and moved back to John's side.  
  
"So I guess this means you won't be playing squash Monday night?" he asked, as he gave John a gentle punch on his arm. "Getting scared to face me are you?"  
  
John laughed up at him. "Give me a week or two, and I'll be ready," he said.  
  
George appeared in the doorway, and walked over to speak to Nathan. He and John had both worked with Nathan, before he left the VCTF and went upstairs to the law department, and Rachel knew that Nathan and John were very close, having both saved each other's lives several times.  
  
Sarah came and linked arms with Rachel, and they both stood back, watching the men telling jokes and paying one another out.  
  
"Let's get a drink, and have a chat," she suggested, and they left the room and headed down stairs to the hospital shop.  
  
" So you two are . um, a couple?" she asked, as they found a table and sat down. Rachel nodded.  
  
"Well we could all see it happening," Sarah went on to say. "Lucky thing, even pale and washout looking, he is gorgeous."  
  
Rachel smiled "Strangely enough, it's not his looks, that I am interested in. In fact, they worked against him as far as I am concerned."  
  
Sarah looked at her as if she had suddenly grown another head. "Well you'd be way out there on your own sister," she said, and Rachel laughed.  
  
"Well I don't want to be part of a couple that people look at and say, wow what does he see in her!"  
  
Sarah laughed at her, "Rachel, you are beautiful, and you know it." But Rachel shook her head, and looked down at her hands.  
  
"For years I've been teased about my red hair, freckles and temper. I know I'm all right, but not beautiful."  
  
"Well you are," said Sarah, "and I bet John thinks so too."  
  
Rachel smiled, "All I know is that suddenly, this feels so right! So, what else is happening, I feel so out of touch with everything," and bent forward to listen to the office gossip. 


	17. Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17 "I'm going to drop into the office for a while, on my way home," said Rachel to John when they were alone, a little later. "I want to catch up with Gary, he's the replacement they sent out for me. Is there anything you want or need?"  
  
"I want you here," he replied sulkily, "Not off talking to some guy I don't know. Is he good looking? Is he."  
  
Rachel laughed and leaned forward. "Yes, he is very good looking," she said, "But not as good looking as you. And he is also very married." And she kissed him on the lips.  
  
"I'm nothing to look at," said John with a wry smile "I have curly hair, and a big nose, quite ordinary really! Not like you, you are beautiful, so of course I'll be jealous whenever you go off without me."  
  
Rachel laughed again, thinking of her earlier conversation with Sarah. "You need never be jealous over me," she said to him, "And I'll try really hard never to be jealous over you! But I will warn you, that I have red hair, and yours is only curly, so I have the hereditary excuse for (a) being jealous and (b) losing my temper and (c) being totally unreasonable!"  
  
John grinned reluctantly. "We are talking rubbish you know," he said. "I have the excuse that I was hit on the head, what's yours?"  
  
"I have the excuse of falling in love," replied Rachel, and he pulled her down onto the bed, and kissed her again.  
  
"Get some sleep," she said, when she finally disengaged herself. "I may be back tonight, or if not, in the morning, but I do have some things to do in the office. You need to concentrate of getting better quickly. So do what you're told, eat what they give you and behave yourself, don't give those poor nurses too hard a time!"  
  
John grinned at her and saluted. "Yes marm," he said, and she turned and left the room.  
  
Rachel was welcomed back into the command centre, with everyone wanting to know how John was, and how soon he would be back. She escaped all the attention eventually, and went into her office, to talk to the blonde haired man who was now sitting at her desk, and reading her files. She spent some time catching him up and also catching up on all the gossip since they had last met, so it was quite late when she left.  
  
Deciding not to go back to the hospital, she stopped off to see Grace for a chat, and catch up with her two beautiful little boys, the youngest, named after George, was just starting to walk. After the boys had been put to bed, and bedtime stories read, she and Grace sat in the living room, to talk.  
  
"I can't believe how much better John is," said Rachel. "I honestly thought he would be on his back for weeks. But he's already up and about - tomorrow they are going to let him have a shower. Its amazing how quickly its happened."  
  
"Oh these days they don't believe in letting people lie around too much," said Grace "I mean it used to be a fortnights bed rest after having a baby, but now they get you up almost as soon as you've finished pushing the baby out. Or that's how it feels!"  
  
"I wouldn't know," said Rachel, "Not yet, anyway."  
  
"Oh I do," said Grace dryly. "And trust me, don't leave it till you are as old as me to have your babies," she went on, "Being Mum is much more tiring that being a pathologist, if a lot more rewarding. Pretty soon, I'm going to have to cut down my hours even more."  
  
"Bailey won't be happy," said Rachel, "He depends on you."  
  
"Well he can depend on Jersey, he's just as qualified as me," replied Grace, "and not coping with two small children at the same time."  
  
She looked over at Rachel, and smiled "Have you and John sorted out things?" she asked quietly, changing the subject. "Are you really sure?"  
  
Rachel nodded. "He's coming home with me," she said - "This is the umpteenth time he's been hurt or shot - I just can't let him wander around on his own any more."  
  
"I am glad, he's had a rough time over the last few years, and he is one of the good guys," said Grace, her eyes softening. "And you deserve something good, as well, after the last year."  
  
"Oh yes," said Rachel happily, "I've got what I want."  
  
After a reasonable night's sleep, John was greeted by a pretty nurse, who came into his room, carrying towels and asked if he would like to have a shower. She unhooked the drip, and put a bung in the end that was still in his arm, checked the dressing on the wound in his stomach, putting a waterproof 'second skin' dressing over it, and helped him into the bathroom, setting out his soap, toothpaste, deodorant, talc and shaving stuff.  
  
For one awful moment, John thought she intended to stay with him, but she left after telling him not to lock the door, in case he needed help, and telling him not to forget to use the shower chair if he felt faint.  
  
He turned on the water, and stood with both arms braced against the wall, and let the hot water stream over his head and down his body. He was sore in so many places, he couldn't count them, but it felt wonderful. He stood like that for about 10 minutes, before he began the arduous task of washing himself. He was careful about the gash on the side of his head, but it wasn't too bad any longer. By the time he had dried off, dressed himself in loose track pants and tee shirt, and shaved, he was exhausted again, but he felt good.  
  
Shuffling carefully back to his bed, he was able to sit cross legged on it, without feeling the muscles in his stomach scream too much, and gradually recovering his breath. When the pretty nurse returned, she was carrying a breakfast tray, and was pleased to see that he had made it back to his bed without help.  
  
"Now I want you to eat everything on the tray," she said, "and I hope you drink orange juice, that's what you've got."  
  
He dutifully tried, but all he could manage was a piece of toast. When she came back, she looked at the tray, and shook her head. "The doctors won't let you go home till you're eating properly," she said in a scolding tone, but he looked at her pleadingly, and she smiled, unable to resist him.  
  
He lay back against his pillows, and idly flicked the television on, switching from channel to channel, then throwing away the control in disgust, grabbed the hand held computer game Rachel had brought in the day before.  
  
He looked up as someone peered around his door, and found himself looking at a small child, perhaps four or five years old. He smiled at her and she smiled back at him, and then pointed to the television.  
  
"Is that Black Beauty?" she said in awe. John glanced back at the TV. and the cartoon of the horse story was indeed on. He nodded, and the child ventured further into his room, to stare at the screen with large eyes. She watched it for a little while, and then turned to look at John. Her eyes went to the i.v. tube bandaged in his arm and she frowned.  
  
"Have you hurt your arm?" she asked. "My Daddy has hurt his arm too." John glanced down at his forearm and nodded. "Yes," he said, " I hurt my arm, but it's mostly better now. What's your name?"  
  
"Molly-Jean," the little girl replied. "What's yours?"  
  
"John Michael," he replied with a smile. She came closer, and looked at the box of chocolates, which sat on his side drawer. She had shoulder length curly brown hair, and big blue eyes. He thought she was the cutest thing he'd seen for a long time.  
  
"Are those all for you?" she asked, pointing at the chocolates. He nodded, and opened the box. ""I'm not very hungry though," he said "Would you like one?"  
  
"My mummy said I'm not supposed to take things from strangers," she replied a little primly, but moving closer at the same time.  
  
"Well we have introduced ourselves," he said, "But your mummy's right, you shouldn't speak to strangers."  
  
Molly-Jean nodded again, and moved closer, till she was standing right next to the bed. "I expect I could run faster than you," she said "I can run faster than Jessica, and almost as fast as Aaron."  
  
John laughed. "At the moment, a snail could run faster than me," he said. "And who are Jessica and Aaron?"  
  
"Snails can't run fast," she said in disgust, "Even I know that. Jessica is my best friend and Aaron is her brother. He's a pain."  
  
"Oh," said John "brothers mostly are, I think."  
  
"Don't you have one?" asked Molly, climbing on the chair next to the bed. "I have got one, but I've never met him. He lives a long way away, and doesn't ever come home. He and Daddy don't speak. I only found out about him the other day. He's really old, older than Aimee's brother Paul, and Paul has just left school and got a job! My brother's even older than that! Paul brought Aimee a Ballerina Barbie for her birthday, out of his own money!"  
  
John looked suitably impressed. Molly hesitated then reached out and took a chocolate out of the box. She slid her eyes sideways to see if John was going to stop her, and then shoved it into her mouth. John tried to hide his amusement, wondering who was supposed to be looking after the child, but enjoying her artless company.  
  
"My Daddy is having his stitches out," she said importantly, "and then he has to go to court, to tell on this naughty lady. My mummy is outside there, talking to someone. She said if I am good, we might go to the zoo and have a picnic, while Daddy is busy. I might get to see a tiger."  
  
"The zoo is a great place for a picnic," said John. "I wish I could go there. They won't let me out of here for another day or two though. I hope you enjoy your picnic."  
  
Molly stood up on the chair so she was eye level with him. She looked him over quite critically, and then with a knowledgeable air said "You should come and have some fresh air with us. Mummy always says if you stay inside too much, playing computer games, or watching television, you will get sick. Perhaps you would get better if you came outside to play."  
  
"I don't think I'm allowed to play outside at the moment," he said, unable to stop laughing. She wasn't offended however; she snuck another chocolate, and then looked down in horror at the chocolate mark her fingers had left on her pretty yellow dress.  
  
"Oh Mummy will be cross," she said, "How did that get there? Now she will know I've had chocolate."  
  
"If you pass me that wet facecloth, on the back of the door in there, I'll try and wipe it off for you," said John. Molly hopped down and grabbed the facecloth out of the bathroom, and brought it back. He dabbed at the mark, and mostly removed it, and was rewarded by a huge smile.  
  
"I am going to get a pony," she confided in him, "If I am very good, and I will be allowed to go to Pony Club. Do you like horses?"  
  
"Very much," said John, "I used to have a pony and go to Pony Club. Her name was Smarty."  
  
"Did you really?" she asked, in rising excitement. "Your very own pony! What color was it?" and she bounced up and down on the chair.  
  
"She was a chestnut - a red colour, with a big white blaze down her nose, and three white socks." He said, and suddenly closed his eyes and a rush of pain swept over him, as he remembered the few times he was actually happy, in between bouts of his parents arguing.  
  
He hadn't thought of those times for many years. The mare was just one more thing that had been taken away from him because of his father.  
  
Molly sighed ecstatically, "You could come and see my pony when I get it," she said dreamily, "But I live."  
  
Before she could say anymore, the door opened wider, and Rachel came in, followed by a short, worried looking woman, with dark hair.  
  
"Molly," she remonstrated, and the little girl looked around. "I've been looking for you."  
  
Then as John turned to look at them, Rachel and Molly's mother stopped in the doorway, both of them looking guilty, and John frowned.  
  
"What's going on?" he asked Rachel, and she bit her lip, and then offered him a placating smile.  
  
"Nothing, what do you mean?" she countered.  
  
Molly jumped off the chair and ran over to her mother, grabbing her hand. "Mummy, this is John, and guess what, he used to have a pony," she said.  
  
"I am sorry, I hope she wasn't annoying you," said Molly's mother, "She knows she's not allowed to wander off." And she glared down at the little girl.  
  
"She was no bother," said John, and he smiled at Molly. "She was keeping me company."  
  
"Did you really have a pony?" asked Rachel, sidetracked. John nodded. "Wow, I would have loved one, but my parents couldn't afford it," she added.  
  
There was a moment of almost embarrassed silence, and then finally Molly's mother stepped forward, and held out her hand to John.  
  
"My name is Carolyn Ross," she said, and his eyes widened. 


	18. Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18 Rachel had arrived at the hospital a little earlier, and was about to enter John's room, when she heard her name called out, and turned to see Carolyn and a small girl behind her.  
  
"Carolyn, Hi, I thought you'd be long gone," was Rachel's greeting.  
  
"Patrick has to be in court this morning, to give evidence, so we flew back this morning and I thought I'd come and see if I could catch up with you. How's - how's John is he better?"  
  
"Oh much better - I was just about to go and see him. Who is this?" she asked, as she looked at the little girl, who looked back at her with familiar blue eyes.  
  
"This is Molly Jean," said Carolyn with a smile. "Molly go and wait over in the waiting room just there, where I can see you, and watch some television, I will be right here talking to this lady," and she indicated the waiting area, next to the room John was in. The little girl let go of her mother's hand and went and sat on a chair, and started watching the television there.  
  
Rachel turned back to Carolyn with a lift of an eyebrow. "Is she yours?" she asked and Carolyn nodded.  
  
"Yes, and believe me when I tell you, that getting pregnant, was the biggest shock of my life. And Patrick's! We both thought we were way to old for that. But she has added a whole new dimension to our marriage."  
  
"Wow, this is a surprise," said Rachel, "That makes her John's half sister."  
  
"Yes, and an absolute handful, let me tell you," added Carolyn. "You can imagine my surprise, I had a career, and had never expected to have to give that up - or to want to give that up. I was 40 years old; Patrick was nearly 50 when she was conceived. We hadn't been married long, and were planning a luxury trip around the world. Funny how things turn out, - I love being a full time mother!"  
  
"Thank God that the Landers woman never found out!" said Rachel, "a child is so vulnerable."  
  
Carolyn agreed, "She never knew about our marriage, or about Molly. She was stuck in the past, and John and his mother were her targets." And as she spoke, she looked over to where Molly had been sitting, only to discover she was gone. Before she could panic, they noticed that the door to John's room was opened wider than it had been, so they peered around the door to see Molly sitting next to John and chattering away non-stop.  
-*****-  
  
"Carolyn Ross," repeated John, looking at the woman. "Isn't that the name that..?"  
  
"Yes," she said, "That woman used my name and credentials." She didn't want to say too much in front of Molly. John nodded, and looked over at Rachel, lifting one eyebrow in surprise.  
  
Rachel moved over and sat down next to John in the chair Molly had vacated. Carolyn looked down at John for a long moment, before continuing.  
  
"I am really sorry that she did what she did," she said but John shrugged.  
  
"It wasn't your fault," he said, still wondering what was happening.  
  
Then Molly came forward again, and stood in front of Rachel, next to the bed, and stared hard at John. "Mummy, why does John look so much like Daddy?" she blurted out, and the adults in the room froze. John was the first to recover; he looked at Molly asking quietly "What is your full name, sweetheart?"  
  
"Molly-Jean O'Doyle," came the proud reply "I live in Boston," and she took another chocolate out of the box.  
  
John's blue eyes turned glacial. He threw a furious glance at Rachel, then turned to Carolyn. "You are married to my father?" he asked, icily polite.  
  
Carolyn nodded, and reached out to Molly, almost as a protection from his rage.  
  
Molly, however, had the biggest reaction. She looked at her mother in horror, and then back at John.  
  
"Is he my brother?" she asked her mother. "But he's way too old to be a brother."  
  
She wrinkled her nose at him in disgust. "He can't even play games or anything. I want a brother I can play with. I want a brother like Aaron!" She looked at Rachel for sympathy, as the other two were both too stunned to speak. "Aaron can get to level 4 at Cloak & Dagger," she told her, "And he can push Jessica and I really high on the swings. He can climb to the top of the tree in his garden. Although he can be awful sometimes, and he did push me over at Jessica's party."  
  
"I could, however, afford to buy a Ballerina Barbie," said John, his sense of humor finally taking over, and Molly's expressive eyes flew back to him.  
  
"Oh," she said considering. "Do you have a job?"  
  
John smiled, breaking the tension. "Yes, I do, I am a sort of policeman."  
  
Molly put her head on one side assessingly. "Do you have a uniform?" she asked in awe.  
  
"Well yes, but I don't wear it any more," he replied, afraid of disappointing her.  
  
"Oh," she said again. "Well I suppose that's all right. Why don't you speak to Daddy?"  
  
With that comment, Carolyn took her daughter's arm, and began to lead her out of the room. She looked back at John and smiled. 'What ever you may think, I am glad to meet you," she said gently, and ignoring Molly's protests, picked up the child, and left the room.  
  
John lay back against his pillows, and closed his eyes, not saying anything. Eventually Rachel reached over and threaded her fingers through his, squeezing his hand tight, and he opened his eyes and looked at her.  
  
She was trying to find the words to explain to him how it was that she and Carolyn were friends, she knew what she was to say next could make or break their relationship, she knew how important these next few minutes were going to be. This was a pivotal moment!  
  
"Do you really still have your uniform?" was all she could come up with.  
  
He reacted so completely differently to what she expected, that she sat there stunned, as he collapsed into laughter, holding his side and trying to catch his breath.  
  
"Oh shit that hurts," he said, between laughs, "I don't know who looked more shocked, you, me or Molly."  
  
She felt a reluctant grin break out, and then she started to laugh also. "I thought you'd be furious," she said, when she finally managed to control herself. "Carolyn didn't mean for Molly to come in here. She wasn't going to subject you to that sort of emotion or pressure."  
  
"She is a cutie," said John, "And can't help her parentage any more than I can." Rachel bent over and kissed him slowly. "Carolyn is very nice," she said eventually, "and feels really bad that the other woman used her name. And Molly is adorable."  
  
"Yes," said John thoughtfully, "I feel really bad, I was such a disappointment to her."  
  
And they both started laughing again. 


	19. Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19  
  
Three weeks later Rachel entered Bailey's office, and collapsed into a chair.  
  
"I'm so tired," she said him, "I'm just waiting for Grace to finish her report on the autopsy, then I'm going home."  
  
"Yes, that was a nasty case," Bailey replied, leaning back in his chair, and lighting up a cigar. "But provided things went o.k. today, John should be back on Monday, and that will lighten our load a little. Have you heard anything?"  
  
"He rang me a little while ago, the doctor's given him the all clear. So he will be back on Monday, sending us all insane again," she said, smiling.  
  
George, who was spread out on the sofa, also laughed a little.  
  
"Has he been driving you crazy?" he asked Rachel sympathetically.  
  
"Not all the time," she replied cautiously and both men smiled.  
  
She stood up, and went back into her office, and sat for a while, staring at her computer screen, thinking about how her life had been turned around, in these last few weeks.  
  
John had come home from hospital into her apartment, and into her life.  
  
She was in turn exited, exhilarated, annoyed, angry, and very, very happy.  
  
He was not a quiet person to be around, always tapping on the table top, or bench top, or whatever he could, humming or singing in time to the music he always played, loudly, or watching basketball or football on the television, sprawled out across her sofa, and yelling encouragement or swearing at the players. He had an overdeveloped sense of the ridiculous, and found the most unusual things funny, and in sharing with him the most mundane of things - cooking or eating dinner, watching the news on TV. - doing the dishes - picking up the dirty clothes he left strewn around the bedroom, or house cleaning together, she found a release of the stress she didn't realize she was carrying, and more happiness than she ever thought possible.  
  
They argued over almost everything, and he nearly always ended their arguments by pulling her into the bedroom, and either tickling her till she begged for mercy, or making love to her, till she begged for mercy, especially as his health and strength returned!  
  
He had accompanied her home, last weekend and suffered through her father's and brothers' interest and interrogations, and had quickly become the center of attention from her mother and sisters' in law, who had spent the whole time running around after him, making sure he was comfortable, or had enough to eat or drink, until he had begged her to rescue him.  
  
It was a strange and wonderful feeling for her to know he was at home, waiting for her. It was a scary feeling to know what they had planned for this weekend, and to know that he was only going along with it, because she wanted him to do it!  
  
She had finally talked, pleaded and argued him into going to Boston; they had just received an invitation for Molly's 6th birthday. She had pointed out to him that it was time he thanked his father for saving his life, and they could both attend the party while his father was at work, but he could also thank him in person, perhaps by visiting him at his offices.  
  
He didn't want to do it, but had given in to her, and that made her feel enormously empowered, to think he would do something like that for her. She told him that he would feel much better about himself, and be able to move forward in his life a lot better if he confronted his father and put everything that had happened in the past where it belonged. That maybe the nightmares that he suffered from, the ones that woke her up in the night, with him shouting or shaking and sweating, that maybe they would lessen and stop, if he faced his father, from the perspective of an adult, not a child.  
  
Over an hour later, she let herself into the apartment, and walked into the kitchen, to flick on her coffee maker. There was no sign of John, but his car was parked outside, so she walked into the bedroom, and realized the shower was running. On impulse she opened the bathroom door, and leaned on the wall, watching him rinse shampoo out of his hair.  
  
"Do you want your back washed?" she asked, and he spun around to face her.  
  
"Well if you are offering.." he replied, opening the glass door, and throwing a wet sponge at her. She jumped back, not wanting to get her suit wet, and he laughed, and started to come towards her, so she fled back into the bedroom, shutting the door on him. He followed her out, wrapping a towel around his hips, and using another to dry his face and chest.  
  
"What did the doctor say?" she asked.  
  
"It's all good," he replied, "everything works, that should work. He said I was boring now, and to go away, and not come back!"  
  
"Well I should hope so," she said; privately thinking that he did, indeed look good, he had regained nearly all the weight he had lost, and there was no sign that only four weeks ago, he had nearly died, apart from the still red triangular scar on his abdomen.  
  
"Our plane leaves in just over two hours, are you packed?" she asked, as she pulled out her overnight bag.  
  
"Do we really have to do this?" he asked, as he dropped his towel and started dressing.  
  
"Yes, we do," she replied "We have been over this lots of times."  
  
"I know," he said "And you've told me lots of times why I should do this. But can you tell me again?"  
  
She stopped packing, and walked over to him, putting her arms around him, and leaning her head on his chest.  
  
"You are doing this because you know it's the right thing to do."  
  
He rested his chin on her head, and sighed deeply. "This is going to be very hard for me. I don't know if I'll be able to go through with it, or if I'll be able to stop myself from killing him. It's what I want to do."  
  
"John, I don't expect you to fall into each other's arms or anything. But surely you can say those words, 'thank-you' without coming to blows? You are not the scared child that he terrified all those years ago. Let him see the man you have become. Besides, Molly will be pleased." 


	20. Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20  
  
Rachel looked at John, as their hired car pulled up in front of the office complex. His face was very pale, and his jaw was tightly clenched. She could see a muscle jumping in his cheek. For one moment, she thought he wasn't going to get out of the car, but he did, and strode into the building, leaving her to lock the car. She caught up with him at the elevator, taking hold of his arm, and feeling the muscles beneath her hand tense and seem as hard as concrete to her touch.  
  
He punched the button for the fifth floor, where the offices of O'Doyle & Co. were located, and leaned back on the back wall of the elevator, taking deep and measured breaths.  
  
Rachel held onto his arm, trying to act casually. She knew he was nervous, but didn't know how he was going to react when face to face with the man he had hated for most of his life. She was beginning to wonder if this was such a good idea.  
  
All the way to Boston in the plane, he had been quiet, and very tense. When they had arrived at their hotel, he had basically dumped the bags, and grabbed the car keys, wanting to get this whole thing over and done with as soon as possible. Rachel could tell he was getting more and more wound up, and hoped that this was not going to be a disaster!  
  
When the elevator doors opened, he took one more deep breath, and strode out, and straight up to the reception desk, where two people were talking to a receptionist.  
  
She looked up at John, then her jaw literally dropped as she took in his resemblance to her boss.  
  
"O'Doyle," he barked at her, and she looked sideways at a closed door, then back at him.  
  
"Do you have an appointment?" she asked, unable to believe her eyes.  
  
"No," replied John, "But he will see me."  
  
"Could I have your name," she replied, her hand hovering over her switchboard.  
  
John hesitated for a moment, and glanced down at Rachel. "Grant," he said to the receptionist, "John Grant."  
  
"Mr O'Doyle is in a meeting at the moment," she said primly, not understanding the tension in the man facing her. "Please take a seat, and I'll see if he can see you. Although it might be better if you were to make an appointment."  
  
Rachel winced and held her breath; the situation was way out of her control now.  
  
John leaned forward, and lowered his voice. "Is that his office in there?" he asked, pointing at the closed door to one side of the round reception desk.  
  
"Yes," came the reply, "But as I said, Mr O'Doyle can't be disturbed right now. You will have to wait." She raised her voice as she spoke, and the two people leaning on the reception desk at the other end, straightened and looked towards them expectantly.  
  
"Is there a problem?" asked one of the men, walking towards John and Rachel, and looking enquiringly at the receptionist.  
  
"Not at all," replied John politely, and walking around the desk, strode towards the closed door, leaving everyone stunned in his wake. Rachel, the man who had come forward, and the receptionist all scurried along after him, but had no chance of stopping him, as he flung the door open, and walked into the office.  
  
Three men were seated around a large and highly polished desk, and they all looked around in surprise when the door was so forceably opened, rising to their feet as one. Patrick O'Doyle was perhaps the most surprised, he started to say something, but the words died in his throat as he stared at the man in the doorway.  
  
Rachel had by that time caught up with John, and tried to take his arm, but he shook her restraint off, and stepped further into the room. The receptionist also came into the room, looking as if she were going to cry.  
  
"I'm sorry, Mr O'Doyle, but he just pushed past me and came in, I tried to stop him.."  
  
"It's all right, Susan, everything's fine," said O'Doyle, when he could find his voice.  
  
"Shall I call the police?" the receptionist named Susan asked, almost fearful of this angry looking young man, frightened he was going to harm her employer somehow. More people began gathering in the open doorway, crowding in behind Rachel.  
  
This got John's attention. "I am the police," he said to her, more gently than before, and pulled out his FBI badge, but not taking his eyes from the man standing before him.  
  
O'Doyle was still stunned, however he turned to the man standing next to him and shook his hand. "I'll need a moment, Ted," he said, "If you could all wait for me outside?"  
  
Both men in the office began to leave, and the rest of the crowd began backing out. John never moved, and never dropped his gaze, the muscle in his cheek jumping again. Rachel moved to shut the door when everyone else had left, and still Patrick and John stared at each other.  
  
Finally Patrick O'Doyle came around to the other side of his desk, and approached his son. For the first time in fifteen years, John looked his father in the eye, and this time he was not the first to look away.  
  
"I am told I owe you my life," he said finally, in an abrupt manner. "So thank you."  
  
He then turned around and went to open the door, but Patrick moved forward and grabbed his arm.  
  
"John - wait - I would like to talk to you," he said.  
  
John looked down at the hand on his arm, then back up into his father's eyes, and said through clenched teeth "Don't ever touch me again," and pulled his arm free. "We have nothing to talk about. I came to say thank- you, and that's it. I am going to visit Molly now, because it's not her fault she's related to you. But don't ever think that I have anything else to say to you, because I don't."  
  
He flung the office door open, and strode out, ignoring the congregation of people standing outside, and headed for the lifts.  
  
Rachel looked at Patrick, and smiled in sympathy.  
  
"I'm sorry I didn't let you know he was coming," she said. "We got the invitation to Molly's birthday party - and he agreed to come - I was really surprised."  
  
Patrick looked down at his hands, and smiled wryly.  
  
"So am I," he said "I can't believe he came here. The gossips on my staff will have a field day. Hadn't you better catch up with him?"  
  
"Well, he can't go far - I've got the keys to the hire car, and also to our hotel room," said Rachel, jingling the objects. "I thought it might be safer."  
  
Patrick looked at her admiringly. "You cover all your bases, don't you," he said smiling properly at last. "Don't change, don't let him drive you away with his temper. As much as he will deny it, I can see he's a lot like me in that respect."  
  
"Oh he doesn't scare me," she replied "And when he loses his temper, he gets over it very quickly. He's much more scared of me losing my temper, I assure you. I don't have this red hair for nothing!"  
  
Patrick laughed out loud. "I'm sorry that we won't be able to get to know each other better. I think you are a fine addition to our family - such as it is."  
  
"Why thank you," said Rachel. "We are going to see Molly now - if you happen to come home before we go, we might catch up again."  
  
Patrick laughed again. "Maybe I will come home early. I sometimes do on a Friday afternoon. It would serve John right for coming in here and making a scene." And he kissed Rachel gently on the cheek. "Thank you for being there for him," he said, "And for causing him to come here, so I could see him whole and hearty again."  
  
Thank you for reviews, you few who bother, they mean a lot to me. I hope you have enjoyed the story so far, there are only another 2 or three chapters to go. 


	21. Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21  
  
Rachel found John leaning moodily against the hired car. He glared at her when she appeared, and snatched the keys out of her hand.  
  
"Did you have a nice chat with him?" he snapped, clipping up his seatbelt, and starting the engine, revving it unnecessarily.  
  
"Well I didn't storm out rudely, if that's what you mean," she replied, fastening her own seatbelt. "I felt that you did that sufficiently well for the both of us."  
  
"I thought you were behind me," he said, throwing the car into reverse, and squealing the tires.  
  
"You left so quickly, I had no chance to catch up," she replied evenly, "And if you are going to drive like a maniac, pull over and let me do it, I have no desire to be killed because you are in a mood."  
  
John sighed heavily, but the rigidity of his posture relaxed slightly. He glanced at Rachel quickly, then back at the traffic.  
  
"Was I very rude?" he asked quietly.  
  
"Oh yes, shockingly so," she replied, but with the beginning of a smile. "I don't think that poor girl on reception will ever get over it."  
  
"I didn't mean to yell at her," he said, "But just being in that building made me feel."  
  
His voice tailed off, and he bit his bottom lip. Rachel put her hand on his thigh, and leaned over towards him. "I think you were very brave, to even go in there," she said, and kissed him on the cheek. "How do you feel about it now?"  
  
"I don't know how I feel, - angry, confused - more confused than anything," he said, pulling out of the parking space, and into the stream of traffic. "I can't believe I spoke to O'Doyle. I can't believe how much he seems to have shrunk, since I saw him last. He used to tower over me."  
  
"Well, that was 15 years or so ago, you've probably grown some since then." Rachel said, continuing to rest her hand on his thigh, and tracing circles on it with her fingers.  
  
"Well, if you keep that up, it's possible I may grow some more," he said, and she laughed, but kept her fingers circling higher and higher on his leg.  
  
"We could always go back to the hotel for a while," she said suggestively. "Our room has a spa. I could give you a massage, get rid of some of that tension."  
  
He smiled, for the first time since entering the office complex, and trapped her hand between his thighs.  
  
"Stop trying to distract me, you'll cause an accident," he said. "Let's get this kid's party over and done with, then we can go back to the hotel and play."  
  
"Promises, promises," she said to him, "I'll hold you to that. - Do you know where you are going?" she changed the direction of the conversation, looking around as he turned the car into an elegant street, with large houses, beautiful gardens, and lots of large trees.  
  
"Oh yes," he said more soberly "I used to live here, don't forget. I know it only too well."  
  
He pulled the car up outside of an elegant double-storied home, with lush green lawns and immaculate garden beds, and surrounded by a tall wrought iron fence, and large white gates. For a moment he looked at the house, biting his lip, and then drove forward up to the gates, which opened automatically to allow the car to enter.  
  
The immaculate circular driveway swept up towards the front door of the house. There were several cars parked off the to the side. John pulled the car up next to one, and sat there for a moment, staring at the house, a faraway look in his eyes.  
  
"I haven't seen this place since I was 11 or maybe 12," he said softly. "It hasn't changed all that much."  
  
"Carolyn said there wasn't going to be anyone else here," said Rachel, in a worried tone. "I wonder who all these cars belong to?"  
  
"Well not too many 6 year olds can drive," replied John, "So I guess the parents of the other kids maybe - or relatives. Carolyn's probably - hopefully. I don't want to see anyone who used to know me or my mother."  
  
"Do you want me to take Molly her present?" asked Rachel. "I think you've been through enough emotional stuff today - I could bring Molly out here."  
  
"I don't know," said John. "I don't know if I can walk in there."  
  
"That's o.k. - just wait here, I'll go in and ." whatever she was going to say was cut off as a group of children came racing around from the back of the house, chasing a small puppy, and shouting. Leading the pack was Molly, her pretty party dress covered in grass stains and what looked like chocolate cake, her hair ribbon trailing halfway down her back. She tried to grab the puppy, but it made a beeline for the shelter of Rachel's feet. Rachel bent down, and picked up the little dog, it wriggled in her arms, and started licking her face.  
  
Molly careered to a stop, and recognized Rachel immediately.  
  
"Oh you came," she said breathlessly. "This is my puppy, her name is Poppy. She is very naughty, and keeps running away. I got her for my birthday."  
  
"Perhaps Poppy is a little bit scared by all the noise," suggested Rachel. "Maybe she should be put in her basket, and left alone in a quiet place, just till the party's over." She glanced over at John, who was still sitting in the car, smiling at her holding the wriggling puppy, which was trying to lick her face.  
  
The rest of the children had caught up by now, and were crowding around, all trying to pat the puppy. Molly suddenly saw John sitting in the car, and turned to the little girl standing next to her.  
  
"There he is," she said, "I told you I had a brother!"  
  
John opened his car door, and climbed out. Molly ran around to his side of the car, and stopped a little way away from him. She looked up at him, and a slightly coy expression crept over her face.  
  
"You look a lot bigger than you did before," she said shyly. Rachel laughed, and John smiled at Molly. "That's because I was lying down," he said. "I've got something for you," and he produced a parcel, beautifully wrapped and bound with a large pink bow.  
  
She reached up for it, and then put her arms around John's neck when he bent down and gave her the present, so that when he stood up, she was in his arms. She looked down at her friends from her high perspective, and smiled widely.  
  
"This is my brother John," she said to them. "He's a policeman!"  
  
Most of the other five children were impressed, however there is always one. The biggest boy put his hands on his hips. "Well, if you are a policeman, where's your gun?" he asked, in a very disbelieving way.  
  
"I didn't bring it, didn't think it was necessary at a child's party," replied John, apologetically.  
  
"Oh yeah," replied the boy. "Where's your uniform?"  
  
"At home," replied John.  
  
The boy looked even more superior and disbelieving and with the air of one delivering a knockout punch - "What about your badge?"  
  
John looked this child thoughtfully, and put Molly back down on the ground. He reached inside his coat pocket, and produced his FBI identification. The children gasped, and even the boy looked impressed. John put his i.d. back in his pocket and bent over to look at the boy in the eye. "You'd have to be Aaron?" he asked, and Aaron nodded and started to back away. "I thought so," said John, trying to keep his face stern, "I've heard all about you."  
  
Aaron backed away even further. Rachel started laughing, and holding the wriggling puppy away from her face, turned to Molly and asked where Carolyn was.  
  
"Mummy's inside with the grown-ups," replied the little girl, and she took John's hand, and started leading him towards the house, the children following, and Rachel bringing up the rear, still holding the struggling puppy. John had no choice but to go with Molly, and she led him through the front door, and into a large and bright entrance hall, yelling for her mother as she went.  
  
"Mum - Mummy," she yelled, and Carolyn came out of the dining room, looking enquiringly at the crowd in her hall.  
  
"What on earth are you yelling about Molly," she began, then saw John and Rachel.  
  
"Oh, welcome, I'm so glad you came," she said, holding out her hands to them. "Shush Molly, you'll scare the puppy with all that noise. I told you to put her in the laundry and leave her alone!"  
  
She reached out and took John's hand with one of her's and Rachel's with the other, and smiled at them. "Honestly, I have told her three times to leave the puppy alone. I can't take my eyes off her for a minute. And what does she look like - believe me half an hour ago she looked like a beautiful and sparklingly clean little girl. Now she looks like an absolute tomboy, I think she's been trying to climb trees in that dress!" She stopped and drew a deep breath, sending the children to the bathroom to wash up before starting to eat.  
  
As she had been talking, she had been shepherding them into a large and lovely lounge room, which was open to the dining room beyond, where the table was spread with all sorts of wonderful looking party food. There were several people standing about the table, and they all looked up with interest as John and Rachel entered the room. Rachel could sense John tensing up; he was clearly uncomfortable and almost apprehensive.  
  
Carolyn kept a firm hold on John's hand, however, and led him forward up to the group.  
  
"I'd like you to meet my sister and brother-in-law, Fiona and Darryl," she said, and he shook hands with the older man, and smiled at the woman who looked a little like Carolyn, standing next to him.  
  
They both looked carefully at John, and then Carolyn's sister smiled back at him. "You certainly do look like your fa." but Carolyn cut her off quickly, and introduced Rachel.  
  
They were then introduced to another couple, whose children were at the party. All the adults obviously knew the background story because they were all very interested in John, and kept staring at him but trying to make out that they weren't. Rachel stood very close to him, and kept her hand clasped in his so he could feel her support.  
  
Carolyn called the children to the table, and in the noise and confusion of the party, came over to John and apologized for the scrutiny.  
  
"I wasn't expecting the grown-ups to show for another hour or so," she whispered to him. "I'm sorry they are here, I wanted you to feel at ease."  
  
John glanced down at her, and smiled a little tentatively.  
  
"I don't think I could feel at ease here, anyway," he said. "Now that I have seen Molly, Rachel and I will be going."  
  
"I have something I'd like you to see first," said Carolyn, "Follow me." And she led them through the dining room, past a vast and beautiful kitchen, and into an informal sitting room, furnished with large, comfortable sofas, a large screen TV, and dominating the room a large fireplace, with pictures on the mantle, and all over the walls.  
  
Above the fireplace, was a lovely portrait of Carolyn, Patrick and Molly as a little baby in arms, and there were more photos of Molly at every age, some large, others smaller all over the walls, except one. On that wall were just two pictures, and Rachel drew in a sharp breath when she saw them.  
  
One was of an extraordinarily beautiful, very young woman, with long blonde hair, holding a newborn baby, smiling at the camera, the other was of the same woman, with shorter hair, still stunningly beautiful and leaning on her lap was a small boy, perhaps a little younger than Molly was now, with big blue eyes and blonde curls.  
  
Rachel turned to look at John, who was standing and staring at the pictures as if he had been turned to stone.  
  
"Blonde?" she said at last "You were blonde?"  
  
John didn't speak, for a long time. Carolyn put her hand on his arm, and said softly "I never asked Patrick to take those pictures down. They have always been on this wall. I just wanted you to see that although your father was a tough and very hard man, he wasn't a murderer. He has always kept these photos of you and your mother in full view."  
  
John took a deep breath, and tore his eyes away from the pictures. "You don't know the man she was married to," he said in a low and angry voice. "He treated her like shit. He caused her death, even if he didn't commit the act, which I'm still not convinced about." And he put both hand over his face for a moment, and struggled to get his ragged breathing under control.  
  
Rachel glanced at Carolyn's stricken face, and indicated that they should leave him alone, and they both walked out of the room, and shut the door behind them.  
  
"I didn't mean to upset John," Carolyn said to Rachel, "I just wanted him to realize that Patrick did once love his mother, and him, very much. I guess it was a stupid thing to do." and her voice trailed off. Rachel looked at her and discovered her eyes were filling with tears.  
  
"No, don't get upset," she said to Carolyn, "I think once he calms down, John will realize what you are trying to achieve."  
  
"He'll never get over this," said Carolyn, as tears started rolling down her cheeks. "I've ruined everything, I wanted him to realize that he is a part of this family, that he's never not been, if you know what I mean. He'll never want to speak to me or Molly again."  
  
Rachel put her arms around her, and hugged her. "John will get over it," she said reassuringly to Carolyn. "He never can hold a mood for very long. Just let him have his little emotional moment, and he'll be fine - I promise you. I won't let him sulk for too long."  
  
Carolyn smiled a little. "He's very angry, though," she said apprehensively, "I hope he can say goodbye to Molly. She will be hurt if you go without saying goodbye."  
  
"Give him 10 minutes or so alone in there, and lets see what happens," said Rachel, and they went back into the party, after Carolyn had wiped her eyes.  
  
"The other thing I'm a little worried about, is that my younger sister, Mary is due to come here soon." Carolyn confided to Rachel as they went into the room, where the children were still eating, laughing and talking at the top of their voices.  
  
"Worried?" asked Rachel.  
  
"Well Mary is different to Fiona and me - she's a little - she's loud and exuberant shall I say - and is very curious about Molly's long lost brother. She loves to tease Patrick all the time, and nothing bothers her. I shudder to think what she'll say if she turns up and you are still here! And of course, she knows about Christine Landers, - about Patrick and John being shot. She thinks the whole thing very exiting."  
  
"Mummy - can we have the cake now?" asked Molly, appearing in front of them suddenly, and then demandingly, "Where's John? I want to show him my room."  
  
"John will be back in a minute," said Rachel. "Then we might have to go."  
  
"No," said Molly firmly. "I want John to stay for a while."  
  
Rachel smiled at her, and asked if she liked her present.  
  
"Oh yes," she said rapturously, "It's wonderful - Jessica doesn't have Stardust Barbie yet, nor Aimee, how did you know I wanted one?"  
  
"John thought you might like one," replied Rachel, her eyes meeting Carolyn's for a moment above the curly head. "I might go and find John, and bring him back here so you can cut your cake," she said to Molly, and headed back to the other room.  
  
When she opened the door, she saw John still standing in the same spot, still staring up at the portrait of his mother. She walked up to him, and slipped her arms around his waist hugging him tightly. She was glad to feel him hug her back.  
  
"You o.k.?" she asked softly, and he looked down at her.  
  
"Yeah," he replied equally softly, "It was a shock, and I'd forgotten how beautiful she was. I remember these pictures, it brought back a lot of stuff. I can't believe they are still up on the wall."  
  
Rachel reached up and kissed him gently on the lips. "I love you," she said.  
  
He looked at her enquiringly "What?"  
  
"Nothing," she said. "Carolyn is really upset - she thinks you will hate her for showing you these pictures."  
  
"It was a shock," he repeated.  
  
"Molly wants to cut her cake, she wants you there," said Rachel, and holding hands, they walked back into the party room.  
  
Molly flung herself at John, and grabbed his arm. "I'm going to blow out my candles," she said, "Then can you come and see my room?" she asked. "I want to show you my stuff."  
  
Carolyn looked anxiously at John, smiling down at Molly, and heaved a sigh of relief, at which he looked up at her.  
  
"It's alright," he said to her softly, "It was a shock - but it's alright," and Carolyn smiled again, even though her eyes were bright with unshed tears.  
  
Everyone crowded around, as the cake was brought out, and the candles lit. Molly's eyes shone as they all sang Happy Birthday to her, and she blew out the candles to a chorus of hoorays, and a lot of flashing cameras. Carolyn started to cut the cake into small pieces. Molly grabbed John's hand and turned to her mother.  
  
"Can I take John upstairs and show him my room?" she asked, and pulled him after her without waiting for an answer. "I've got all my dolls on my bed, and I've got some pictures of the pony that Daddy said he might get me. I told him I wanted a chestnut one like you had."  
  
John followed the little girl glancing back as he left the room and raising an eyebrow at Rachel who laughed and blew him a kiss.  
  
They were finally able to leave, after Molly had shown John her toys, her dolls, and her photos, and had each been given a piece of birthday cake to eat 'later'.  
  
Molly clung to her brother for a moment, before he got into the car, and asked when she would be seeing him again. Rachel looked across at John and then suggested that perhaps Molly could come and stay with them for a few days in the holidays, if that was all right with Caroline, and after a final hug and kiss for John and Rachel, she let them get into the car and drive off, waving frantically from the verandah.  
  
"Do you want to find a restaurant or go straight back to the hotel?" asked John, releasing the tension he was feeling with a huge sigh.  
  
"Back to the hotel, please," replied Rachel. "We have some unfinished business there!"  
  
John glanced across at her, and smiled.  
  
"I couldn't have done that if you weren't with me, so I guess I have to thank you as well," he said softly, and Rachel squeezed his hand.  
  
"Yeah, well I am pretty dam special," she said, "It's taken you long enough to realize it too!"  
  
John laughed. "We have the whole weekend to enjoy," he said. "I have every intention of showing you how special I think you are."  
  
"Promises, promises," she said once again, "Talk is cheap - you'll have to prove it to me!" 


	22. Chapter 22 Final

CHAPTER 22  
  
Rachel woke up before the alarm went off, and lay there for a moment, feeling warm and content. She rolled over onto her side, and felt John's arm tighten around her waist, as if, even in his sleep, he couldn't let her go. She opened her eyes, and looked across at him, his face only inches from hers, relaxed in sleep, and looking absurdly young, even with the stubble darkening his chin.  
  
She lay there luxuriating for a moment longer, then wriggled out from under his arm, and turning off the alarm, made her way into the bathroom.  
  
When she emerged, 20 minutes later, showered and almost dressed, he was still asleep, lying on his stomach with his head turned to one side, and she sat on her side of the bed, and leaned down, kissing him on the cheek. His dark blue eyes opened slightly, and he groaned and rolled over, pulling the pillow over his head.  
  
"You have to get up," she said, "We have to be at work soon."  
  
He grunted, and moaned, then opened both eyes and looked at her.  
  
"I think I'll take another week off, and stay in bed," he murmured, putting the pillow back over his face.  
  
"Oh no you don't buster," she said, pulling it off, then grabbing the quilt and pulling that off as well. "I'm not going to be the only one working for a living. Besides, I thought you couldn't wait to get back to work."  
  
"Most of the time I do," he replied, "But my enthusiasm wanes at 6.30 in the morning."  
  
"Go and have a shower," she said, laughing, "and I'll make you some breakfast. Tomorrow, you can make it for me. Whose car are we going to take?"  
  
"Mine," said John, disappearing into the bathroom. "Yours is in serious need of a service. It was missing a little, when I drove it to the physio the other day."  
  
Rachel screwed up her nose, and muttered something derogatory under her breath about cars.  
  
When John emerged from the bedroom, Rachel was sitting by the window, drinking her first cup of coffee for the morning, and watching the early morning traffic. She looked up and smiled when she saw him, gone was the scruffy look that he had favored during his convalescence, in its place was the sleek and well groomed John that she had known from before. He was immaculately dressed in a dark gray suit, with a pink colored shirt, and gray striped tie. She gave a wolf-whistle, and he shrugged his shoulders.  
  
"Back to the grindstone," he said, and sat opposite her, picking up the glass of orange juice she had placed there for him.  
  
"You know, you don't scrub up too badly," she said to him, and he grinned at her.  
  
"It's all done with mirrors," he said, "A total optical illusion. One day when you kiss me, I am going to turn into a frog."  
  
Are you insinuating that I am a princess or that you are a prince?" she enquired, "Or that I am a wicked witch?"  
  
"Well, I am much too polite to insinuate anything of the sort," he replied. "You choose."  
  
"You know, if you have to chase down a suspect, or clamber through a deserted building, or down a muddy hillside, that suit will not retain its new and pristine condition for long. Why don't you wear jeans or track pants or something more practical?"  
  
"Oh please, allow me my little vanity, just for this first day back," he said "You know as well as I do that Bailey won't let me lift anything heavier than a coffee cup, let alone go chasing anyone today, he'll treat me like a baby for at least a week."  
  
Rachel smiled into her coffee, knowing only too well that he was right, they would all flutter around him for a while, not only Bailey.  
  
"Well," she said, putting down her cup, "Are you ready for this - lets go to work."  
  
He picked up his car keys, clipped his mobile phone onto his belt, and followed her out of the door, locking it behind him.  
  
The End  
  
I hope that some of you enjoyed my story, and didn't find it too boring or silly. I am currently trying to write a follow up to my Charmed fanfic, 'Regrets', but am having a hard time trying to get enthusiastic about it. - Please let me know what you thought of this story. I hope you all have a very Happy and Safe Christmas. 


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